



^a 




4 O 








V 









C^ 



..^ oV-^^i]2%-. ^^^' •^'mi^^^\ '^..^ ov^ 



0' 









'^0' 







4 O 





^^ .- 






^9^.. 

























»* 0.> '^ o^n/^^ 



V 



\^ 










"^^0^ 







0' 



^- 



^°-* 







0' 










^^ -^^ <^ 



.o^_^ 



r'v 



0- 







o 




^^0^ 



v<^^ 




> 



» UL.. 1., X^V. ^V. 



^0==::^^!l^Sr^^rrffT^==m!:mMLMM£Sr 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 

By William Shakespeare. 




CopyrigW 1886, by O. M. DUNHAM. 



▲U rights reserved. 



TO ALL READERS. 

Very little can.be 
done to improve the 
surroundings of a woman 
who has not sense 
enough to use Sapolio. 
It is a simple but use- 
ful article. Perhaps 
you have heard of it a 
thousand times without 
using it bnc^v If you 
will reverse the posi- 
tion and uselt once 
you will praise it to 
others a thousand times. 
We have spent hundreds 
of thousands. of dollars 
in convincing women that 
their labor can be mate- 
rially reduced by using 
Sapolio, but we have 
fallen short of our am- 
bition if we have failed 
to convince you. 



^ 



\ 






AS YOU LIKE IT. 

WITH 

TEE TALE OF GAMELYN. 



1 



\J 



INTRODUCTION. 



All who read Shakespeare are content to hear his 
works described as a Lay Bible, but many pause 
when it is added that they are not so by chance. 
Every play, every tale with a plot in it, good or 
bad, is somebody's notion of an interweaving of 
the lives and actions of men and women, with, so 
far as it has any plot at all, some problem of 
human life, and in the end somebody's notion of 
the way to solve it. The poet Crabbe said that he 
could read tales of all sorts, good or bad, because 
somebody's notion of life must needs be in the 
worst of them, and this could not fail to supply 
matter of interest. A dramatist or novelist with 
a low view of life, may represent a hero or a 
heroine opposing hate to hate, or even cutting the 
knot of a story with a trick or lie. His works 
would not be a Lay Bible. Shakespeare, in his 
undoubted plays, never allows evil to be overcome 
with evil ; he invariably shows evil overcome with 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

good, the discords of life healed only by man's love 
to God and to his neighbour. Love God ; Love 
your Neighbour ; Do your Work, making the 
active business of life subject to the command- 
ments upon which hang all the law and the pro- 
phets : Shakespeare's plays contain no lessons that 
are not subordinate to these. Of dogmatism he is 
free, of the true spirit of religion he is full ; and 
it is for this reason that we all agree in feeling 
that his works are a Lay Bible, however they 
became so. 

How could it have been but by the picturing of 
life with the religious spirit that was in himself ? 
Religion does not forbid cakes and ale. The 
broadest sympathies are part of it. The brightest 
wit may be spent by a dramatist in painting 
characters and manners of men who speak with 
their own tongues, and make evil their good, while 
his own sense of life and truth makes it impossible 
for him to mislead those whom he is teaching 
through delight. In Shakespeare's time there was 
none but Puritan dissent from the opinion set forth 
by Sir Philip Sidney, in his Defence of Poesy, that 
the purpose of the poet is to delight and teach, 
but so to delight that he shall not seem to mean 
teaching. " He beginneth not with obscure defini- 
tions, which must blur the margin with interpre- 



INTKODUCTION. 7 

tations, and load the memory with doubtfulness, 
but he Cometh to you with words set in delightful 
proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared 
for, the well-enchanting skill of music ; and with a 
tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale 
which holdeth children from play, and old men 
from the. chimney-corner ; and, pretending no 
more, doth intend tlje winning of the mind from 
wickedness to virtue, even as the child is often 
brought to take most wholesome things by hiding 
them in such other as have a pleasant taste, which, 
if one should begin to tell them the nature of the 
aloes or rhubarbarum they should receive, would^ 
sooner take their physic at their ears than at their 
mouth ; so it is in men (most of them are childish 
till they be cradled in their graves), glad they will 
be to hear the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, 
^neas; and hearing them, must needs hear the 
right description of wisdom, valour and justice, 
which, if they had been barely (that is to say^,. 
philosophically) set out, they would swear they b& 
brought to school again." 

And when the study of a play of Shakespeare'sr 
begins with " obscure definitions, which must blur 
the margin with interpretations and load the 
memory with doubtfulness," its victim may 
swear safely not only that he is put to school 



?J INTKODTJCTION. 

again, but that he is put to a bad school. Shake- 
speare's first reason for the choice of a story was 
that it was a good story, which would please his 
public, and could be told in a play. Next would 
inevitably come the business of thinking it over, 
and conceiving its arrangement into acts. But a 
story is good in proportion to its power of interest- 
ing all men, and it must owe that power to some- 
thing in it which especially comes home to '' men, 
a,s the^ are men within themselves." A poetic 
mind, even though much lower than Shakespeare's, 
cannot dwell on any story without finding where- 
abouts in it that point of interest must lie, and 
Shakespeare, having found it, found in it the point 
of view from which the whole should be presented. 
When Wordsworth said of his poems that each 
one of them had a worthy purpose, he hastened to 
add, "not that I always began to write with a 
distinct purpose formally conceived ; but habits of 
meditation have, I trust, so prompted and regu- 
lated my feelings, that any descriptions of such 
■objects as strongly excite those feelings will be 
"found to carry with them a purpose." So every 
i;ale that Shakespeare told, set to the music in 
himself, falls into harmony with the best truths of 
life. The best truths are the simplest — never 
difficult, abstruse and dark. 



INTRODUCTION. S^ 

The primal duties shine aloft — like stars ; 
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, 
Are scattered at the feet of man — like flowers. 

Critics there are who peer into holes of the 
ground, or search under a microseope for Shake- 
speare's meaning in a play; who exercise prosaic 
wit in theories that convert the Tempest into an 
abstruse psychological parable ; or who suppose 
Acts I. — lY. of King Henry VIII. to be in no 
relation to the main design of the play, which is a 
glorification of the House of Tudor, as shown in 
Act V. They have yet to learn how Shakespeare 
seeks to walk with us upon our common earth, 
over the flowers and under the stars that are his 
fellow-teachers, with nothing more abstruse in his 
philosophy than that he sees life as one who has 
found its highest lessons in the Sermon on the 
Mount. 

How Shakespeare's works thus grew into a Lay 
Bible will, it is hoped, be shown in this edition of 
his Plays, and we have now to show it from tha 
play oiAs You Like It. 

Shakespeare took his first notion of the tale fromi 
Lodge's Rosalynde. Lodge, who had drawn some 
part of it from the old song of Gamelyn, which is 
included in the present volume, meant his tale 
to be moral. It was called the Golden Legcicy of 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

Euphues to the sons of Philautus because, he' 
said, "here they may read that Virtue is the King 
of Labours, Opinion the Mistress of Fools; that 
Unity is the Pride of Nature, and Contention the 
Overthrow of Families," But Shakespeare has 
added to the tale new spiritual beauty. He wrote 
the play when his age was about thirty-five ; for 
it was not in Meres's list in the Palladis Tamia 
(1598) ; it quotes a line from Marlowe's Hero and 
Leander published in 1598 ; and it was entered at 
Stationer's Hall in August, 1600 ; but there is no 
known edition of it earlier than the first folio of 
Shakespeare's works in 1623. Like Borneo and 
Juliet or the Merchant of Venice, it deals with 
discord between man and man, to show love con- 
quering. 

In As Tou Like It there are two discords ; each 
is between brother and brother, each is at the out- 
set fierce. They are set in a play filled with the 
harmonies of life, and are themselves reduced to 
music in the close. One hatred is distinctly con- 
quered by man's love to man ; the other, by man's 
love to God. 

The play opens with the hate of Oliver for his 
brother Orlando, first told, then shown in action, 
till one brother is at the other's throat. Faithful 
afiection of old Adam the house-servant strikes, 



INTRODTJCTION. 11 

meanwhile, the first note of the higher music. A 
few words between Oliver and Charles the wrestler 
touch on the other discord, accompanied also with 
its softer note in the pure friendship of girls, love 
between Rosalind and Celia. The first scene then 
ends with a last emphasis upon Oliver's hatred for 
Orlando, when he stirs the strong wrestler against 
him. 

The second and third scenes, which complete the 
act, open to view the other discord through a 
framework of pure love. 

Celia forgets herself in her friend, and is bent 
only upon cheering Rosalind. They mock Fortune, 
who " reigns in the gifts of the world, not in the 
lineaments of nature." They hear of the cruel 
strength of the wrestler, from Le Beau, the kind- 
liest of courtly simpletons. And when Orlando 
has touched the heart of Rosalind with pity for his 
danger, admiration for his courage, triumph for his 
victory, there comes resentment of Duke Frederick's 
injustice to the brave son of Sir Rowland de Bois, 
and warrant for the nearest sympathy in finding 
of what house Orlando came — 

My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, 
And all the world was of my father's mind : — 

then the young innocence of another form of love 



12 INTEODUCTION. 

begins to swell into that higher music in which all 
the discords will at last be lost. 

When, in the third scene, the discordant mind of 
the Duke Frederick breaks on the loving talk of 
the two girls with banishment of Rosalind, Shake- 
speare varies in a noticeable way from Lodge's 
story. Throughout he represents in Celia the un- 
selfish love whose life is in another's happiness. 
From the first word she speaks, her mind is upon 
Kosalind, not on herself. Lodge, in his tale, made 
the Duke banish her and Rosalind together. They 
both went to the woods perforce. Shakespeare 
makes only Rosalind to be banished, with sugges- 
tion that her absence will bring worldly gain to. 
Celia. They both go to the woods, by choice of 
Celia, who sacrifices all gifts of the world to remain 
true to the lineaments of nature. 

The Second Act opens in the Forest of Arden, 
where the banished Duke finds sweetness in the 
uses of adversity, and — with a tendency of mind 
exactly opposite to that of Monsieur Jaques — when 
he finds tongues in trees, books in the running 
brooks, sermons in stones, finds also good in every- 
thing. In contrast with this mood is the picture 
of Jaques drawing contempt for human life from 
contemplation of the wounded deer. He is the 
cynical gentleman of whom it is said : 



n 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
The body of the country, city, court. 
Yea, and of this our life. 

It is the Duke, his opposite in nature, who loves 
to cope him in these sullen fits, and the cynicism 
of Jaques, thus introduced, is used poetically after- 
wards, throughout the play, as foil to throw into 
relief the truer lessons of humanity. 

In the second scene we have Celia and Rosalind 
missed from court, Orlando suspected, and Oliver 
to be made answerable for his brother. 

In the third scene Orlando is warned of a new 
plot of his brother's to destroy him. 

This night he means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie, 
And you within it : if he fail of that 
He will have other mieans to cut you off. 

But again the note of discord is associated with the 
harmonies of life that ever rise and swell towards 
the perfect music of the close. Here it is love 
between young and old, master and servant ; a 
touching picture of true service, and of old age 
when it wears its crown of honour. Old Adam, in 
offering to his young master all the thrifty hire he 
saved, pleads, 

Let me be your servant : 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
For in my youth I never did apply 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
Nor did not with unbasbf ul forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you : 
I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

So tliey also are now bound for the wood, which is 
the scene of the play during the rest of the second 
act. 

Kosalind and Celia, as Ganymede with his sister 
Aliena, enter with Touchstone for protector^ a wise 
fool who is devoted to Celia — "He'll go along o'er 
the wide world with me," Celia had said of him 
■when she and Rosalind were planning flight. 
They are all weary, and Celia has wholly broken 
down — " I pray you, bear with me ; I can go no 
farther." When the love-lorn Sylvius has left old 
Corin the Shepherd, Celia's next words are : 

I pray you, one of you question yond man 
If he for gold will give us any food ; 
I faint almost to death. 

When the questioning of Corin brings discovery 
that flock and pasture may perhaps be bought, 
Rosalind says to the Shepherd, 

I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 

Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock; 

And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 




INTRODUCTION. ISi 

Here Celia's weariness cannot prevent her min^ 
from running out, as usual^ in thought for others. 
There is one thought for the old shepherd, another 
to cheer Rosalind, who must not think that her 
friend suffers in her cause ; her prompt addition 
therefore to Rosalind's suggestion of the purchase 
of the farm is, for the shepherd— " and we will 
mend thy wages ; " but for Rosalind, 

I like this place, 
And willingly could waste my time in it. 

We are next to see old Adam also broken witla 
fatigue, as he enters the wood leaning on Orlando. 
When he sinks with exhaustion the young man 
cheers him, and then bears him in his arms to 
better shelter while he goes to find him food. But 
this scene has its effect heightened by being set 
between two scenes of the cynicism of Monsieur 
Jaques. Of his mirth at a song, the Duke says. 

If he, compact of jars, grow musical, 

We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. 

In the second of these scenes, Jaques is happy at 
the finding of a fool ; for he has come upon Touch- 
stone in the forest, and would be himself a fool 
with 

. , . liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 



16 INTEODTJCTION. 

To blow on whom I please. . . . 

Invest me in my motley : give me leave 

To speak my mind, and I will, through, and through, 

Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 

If they will patiently receive my medicine. 

Bulie. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou would'st do. 
Jaques. What, for a counter, would I do but good 1 
Duke. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin : 
For thou thyself has been a libertine 
As sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 
And all th' embossed sores and headed evils 
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, 
Would'st thou disgorge intothe general world. 

That peep into the past life of Jaqiies ought, one 
would think, to throw clear light upon the meaning 
of the character, and save Shakespeare from being 
himself in any way identified therewith. Jaques 
again serving as foil, his false moralising is imme- 
diately followed by the entrance of Orlando, and 
again there rises the full music of the brotherhood 
of man. A passage, to which the poet carefully 
gives emphasis by repetition, sums up in few 
words Shakespeare's conception of true life as it is 
set forth in the larger features of the play. Orlando 

^ays — 

Whate'er you are 
That in this desert inaccessible, 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time. 
If ever you have looked on better days — 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

What are these better days *? The days of a 
more active love to God — 

If ever been where bells have knolled to church ; — 
the days of friendly fellowship with man — - 

If ever sat at any good man's feast ; — • 

and fullness of human sympathy — 

If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, 
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. 
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. 

Shakespeare prolongs this note by making the 
banished Duke immediately repeat it — 

True is it that we have seen better days, etc. 

The poet had no faith in an ideal of Arcadian 
idleness. One of his very earliest plays, Lovers 
Lahowr's Lost, disposed of that. When Orlando 
has gone to find the old man 

Who after me hath many a weary step 
Limped in pure love, 

Jaques, still as foil to the diamond, occupies the 
interval before his return with a picture of the 
seven ages of man. One might have supposed 
that even Nic. Bottom himself had imagination 
enough to see that it was not Shakespeare in his 



18 INTilODUCTION. 

own person, but in dramatic presentment of a 
cynic, who saw in infancy only " mewling and 
puking ; " in childhood the " whining " schoolboy ; 
who mocked youth in the lover and the soldier, 
and found in age only the lean and slippered 
pantaloon, or second childishness and mere oblivion. 
Upon that last note of contempt follows im- 
mediately Shakespeare's fine dramatic comment, 
his own picture of the worthiness of youth and 
age, when Orlando enters bearing Adam on his 
back. The Act ends presently with a visible 
entwining of men in a group significant of human 
fellowship. The Duke, whose temper is the oppo- 
site to that of Jaques, says to the son of good Sir 
Rowland — 

I am the Duke 
That loved your father. The residue of your fortune, 
Go to your cave and tell me. — Good old man, 
Thou art right welcome, as thy master is. — 
Support him by the arm. — G-ive me your hand. 

The Third Act opens with the short scene in 
which Duke Frederick makes Oliver answerable 
for the disappearance of Orlando, and seizes his 
lands and goods till he has found his brother. 

Oliver. that your highness knew my heart in this ! 
I never loved my brother in my life. 

Dulie F, More villain thou. — "Well, push him out of 
door ; 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

And let my oflGlcers of such, a nature 
Make an extent upon Ms house and lands. 
Do this expediently, antl turn him going. 

In the second scene of the third act Monsieur 
Jaques meets with Orlando in the wood ; the 
false and the true have a short conflictj in which 
Jaques is worsted. Says the sick-minded Jaques, 
in the course of it, " Will you sit down with me 1 
and we two will rail against our mistress the world 
and all our misery." To which Orlando replies in 
the right wholesome tone, " I will chide no breather 
in the world but myself, against whom I know 
most faults." 

The dainty pastoral of love proceeds until we 
reach, in the third scene of the Fourth Act, the 
close of the first discord. Orlando has missed his 
love-lesson with Ganymede, and the cause of that 
yields one of the two great love-lessons of the 
play. He had seen where 

Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age, 

And high top bald with dry antiquity, 

A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 

Lay sleeping on his back ; about his neck 

A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself. 

Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached 

The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly, 

Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, 

And with indented glides did slip away 

Into a bush ; under which bush's shade 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

A lioness, vs^ith udders all drawn dry, 

Lay coucMng, head on ground, witli cat-like watch. 

When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis 

The royal disposition of that beast 

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 

This seen, Orlando did approach the man, 

And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 

Celia. O, I have heard him speak of that same 
brother ; 
And he did render him the most unnatural 
That lived 'mongst men. 

Oliver. And well he might do so, 

For well I know he was unnatural. 

Rosalind. But, to Orlando — Did he leave him there, 
Food to the sucked and hungry lioness 1 

Oliver. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed so, 
, JBut kindness, nobler ever than revenge. 
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
Made him give battle to the lioness, 
Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling 
From miserable slumber I awaked. 

Celia. Are you his brother 1 

Rosalind. Was it you he rescued ? 

Celia. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? 

Oliver. 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I. I do not shame 
To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 



This is a parable, like that of the Good Samaritan, 
including even more of the whole body of Christ's 
teaching about man's love to his neighbour. The 
help is not to a stranger, but to an enemy ; to 
one who has sought the destruction of the helper. 
It is not help by a kindly gift, easily spared out of 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

the accidents of life, but help by a risk of life 
itself. Orlando risks his life in battle with the 
lioness to save a brother who had followed him 
with deadly hate. He is not satisfied till he has 
brought his brother into safety, brojught him to 
shelter, food^ and friendship of the Duke. Not 
unto, he has aatively fulfilled all offices of love 
does he, when fainting from his loss of blood, 
think of himself or Ganymede. And by such 
Love to his Neighbour, Orlando conquers hatred 
xnd transforms it into love. 

Close of the other discord in awakening of Love 
to God, could not be shown so fully. Massinger 
might have tried to set forth in detail the argu- 
ment that brought a soul to God; but Shakespeare 
was content with one firm touch to make the fact 
appear. It is significant that this was a touch all 
his own. In Lodge's story, when the usurping 
Duke brought an army against his brother and his 
followers within the forest, the Twelve Peers of 
France, in arms to recover the right of the banished 
Duke, met the invading army, put it to flight, and 
killed the usurper. The Twelve Peers give place 
in Shakespeare to a higher power. 

TJjoon the scene of concord that closes the play, 
the second son of Sir Howland enters — no stranger 
with a message, but a brother who adds to the 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

scene one more suggestion of the ties of love — and 
he it is who reports to the Duke in the forest that 
Duke Frederick 

Addressed a mighty power, which, were on foot 
In his own conduct, purposely to take 
His brother here, and put him to the sword. 
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, 
Where, meeting with an old religious man, 
After some question with him, was converted 
Both from his enterprise and from the world ; 
His crown bequeathing to his banished brother, 
And all their lands restored to them again 
That were with him exiled. 

Shakespeare's substitution of this rconcilement 
to God for the putting of the evil-minded brother 
to the sword through the might of the Twelve 
Peers, is in the highest degree characteristic of his 
way of teaching. 

Upon two points in the close of the play a word 
or two should yet be added. Celia's sudden love 
for Oliver is in accordance with her character. 
There is joy in heaven — in the heaven also of her 
heart — over one sinner that repenteth. We shall 
find a like suggestion in the Tempest, of love 
awakened in an innocent mind by the beauty of 
a human face expressing pure and deep emotion. 
Celia's heart goes out to Oliver in the hour of his 
repentance ; victory nobler than that of Orlando, 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

.in which he overthrew more than the wrestler 
Charles. Moreover, as wife to Oliver, Celia be- 
comes bound by a new tie of affection to Orlando's 
wife. The cousins become sisters. 

And what is Hymen in the closing music of the 
play ? Hymen, who, while soft music plays, leads 
Rosalind into a little world of human love, and 
sings what is meant for much more than a mar- 
riage song — 

Then is there mirtli in heaven 
When earthly things made even 
Atone together. 

Is it a masque in the forest, is it an angel in 
the world 1 I do not know ; but I look out on life 
and think it is an angel in the world. 

H. M. 



IfOTE 



A spare page may here be occupied by a note in answer to 
a question tliat has often been asked. 
In Hamlet, page 37, Polonius is made to say to Laertes : — 

" The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new hatched, unfledged courage." 

Here the last word is in the folio of 1623, and according to all 
modern editions, " comrade." Why was the word altered? 

1. Because both of the early quartos give the word ' ' courage,'' 
while they here differ so much in other parts of the reading as 
clearly to be separate witnesses. In the quarto of 1603, Ceram- 
bis (Polonius) says to Laertes : — 

"do not dull the palme with entertaine 

0:kevery new unfleg'd courage." 

In the 1804 quarto Polonius says : — 

"doe not dull thy palme with entertaiDment 

Of each new hatcht, uniledg'd courage." 

This calls for consideration. 

2. Consideration brings to mind that "courage" meant in 
old English what its etymology implies, the stii-ring of the 
heart, without the limitation that has shrunk the meaning of 
the word. So Chaucer, at -the beginning of the prologue to 
the *' Canterbury Tales," wrote of the birds, how 

" smale fowle's maken melodie, 

That slepen all the night, with open yhe, 
So priketh hem nature in here cordges." 

3. The result of such consideration is that " courage," used 
by Shakespeare in this sense, is precisely the right word for the 
context ; and that " comrade," substituted in the folio because 
" courage" looked wrong to those who had lost sight of the 
first broader meaning of the word, is comparatively weak and 
vague. The first emotions of the heart towards each other 
among new comrades might be imaged as ' ' new hatcht and 
unfledged ; " so might the comradeship ; but to say that the 
comrades were so is much less poetical. Therefore, " courage" 
is right, " comrade '' is wrong. 



As You Like It. 



DRAMATIS rERSON^. 



Duke, living in banishment. 
Frederick, his Brother, and 
Usurper of his Dominions. 
Amiens, \ Lords attending on 
Jaques, } the banished Duke. 
Le Beau, a Courtier. 
Charles, a Wrestler. 

Jaques' ! ^^'^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^'^' 
Orlando,) ^^^^^deBois. 

^^^"i',^} Servants to Oliver. 

Touchstone, a Clown. 
Sir Oliver Mar-text, a 
Vicar. 

The. SCENE lies, first, and in Act II., scene 3, near 
Oliver's House ; afterwards, in the Usur]iei-'s Cmirt, and in the 
Forest of Arden. 



CORIN, ) „; I, ^ 
SILVIUS, H^'^^^^'*'^^-- 

William, a Country FeUoWy 

in love with Audrey. 
Hymen. 

Rosalind, Daughter to the 

banished Duke. 
Celia, Daughter to Frederick. 
Phebe, a Shepherdess. 
Audrey, a Country Wench. 

Lords, Pages, Foresters, and 
other Attendants. 



»ACT I. 

Scene I. — Oliver's Orchard. 

Enter Orlando and Adam. 

Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this 

fashion. He bequeathed me by will bat poor a 

thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my 

brother on his blessing to breed me well : and there 

begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps 



26 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I.. 

at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit : 
for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to 
speak more properly, stays me here at home un- 
kept ; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of 
my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an 
ox ? His horses are bred better ; for, besides that 
they are fair with their feeding, they are taught 
their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired r 
but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but 
growth, for the which his animals on his dunghills 
are as much bound to him as I. Besides this 
nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some- 
thing that Nature gave me his countenance seems to 
take from me : he lets me feed with his hinds, bars 
me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him 
lies, mines my gentility with my education. This 
is it, Adam, that grieves me ; and the spirit of my 
father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny 
against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, 
though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid 
it. 

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how 
he will shake me up. 

Enter Oliver. 
Oli. Now, sir ! what make you here 1 



ScHije 1. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 27 



Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any- 
thing. 

OIL What mar you then, sir ? 

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, 
with idleness. 

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be 
naught awhile. ' 

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with 
them ? What prodigal portion have I spent, that 
I should come to such penury ? 

Oli. Know you where you are, sir ? 

Orl. O, sir, very well : here, in your orchard. 

Oli. Know you before whom, sir ? 

Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. 
I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the 
gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. 
The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in 
that you are the first-born ', but the same tradition 
takes not away my blood, were there twenty 
brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father 
in me, as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming 
before me is nearer to his reverence. 

Oli. What, boy ! 

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too 
young in this. 

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain 1 



28 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act I. 

Orl. I am no villain : I am the youngest son of 
Sir Rowland de Bois ; he was my father, and he is 
thrice a villain that says such a father begot 
villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not 
take this hand from thy throat till this other had 
pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast 
railed on thyself. 

Adam. [Coming forward.^ Sweet masters, be 
patient : for your father's remembrance, be at 
accord. 

on. Let me go, I say. 

Orl. I will not, till I please ; you shall hear me. 
My father charged you in his will to give me good 
education : you have trained me like a peasant, 
obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like 
qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in 
me, and I will no longer endure it ; therefore, 
allow me such exercises as may become a gentle- 
man, or give me the poor allottery my father left 
me by testament : with that I will go bay my 
fortunes. 

OU. And what will thou do 1 beg, when that is 
spent 1 Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be 
troubled with you ; you shall have some part of 
your will. I pray you, leave me. 

Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes 
me for my good. 



Scene 1.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 29 

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. 

Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I 
have lost my teeth in your service. — :God be with 
my old master ! he would not have spoke such a 
word. \^Exeunt Orlando and Adam. 

OU. Is it even so 1 begin you to grow upon me t 
I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- 
sand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis ! 

Enter Dennis. 

Den. Calls your worship ? 

Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here 
to speak with me ? 

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and 
importunes access to you. 

Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] — 'T will be a 
good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. 

Enter Charles. 

Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 

Oli. Good Monsieur Charles : what 's the new 
news at the new court. 

Cha. There 's no news at the court, sir, but the 
old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his 
younger brother the new duke, and three or four 
loving lords have put themselves into voluntary 
exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the 



30 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I. 

new duke ; therefore, he gives them good leave to 
wander. 

on. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's 
daughter, be banished with her father ? 

Cha. O, no ; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, 
so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred 
together, that she would have followed her exile, 
or have died to stay behind her. She is at the 
court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his 
own daughter ; and never two ladies loved as they 
do. 

Oli. Where will the old duke live ? 

Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of 
Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and 
there they live like the old Robin Hood of Eng- 
land. They say, many young gentlemen flock to 
him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as 
they did in the golden world. 

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the 
new duke 1 

Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint 
you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to 
understand, that your younger brother Orlando 
hath a disposition to come in disguised against me 
to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my 
credit, and he that escapes me without some 
broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother 



Scene 1.] AS YOU LIKE IT. I:)^ 

is but young, and tender, and, for your love, 1 
would be loath to foil him, as I must for my own 
honour if he come in : therefore, out of my love to 
you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that 
either you might stay him from his intendment, or 
brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in 
that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether 
against my will. 

OIL Chailes, I thank thee for thy love of me, 
which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. 
I had myself notice of my brother's purpose here- 
in, and have by underhand means laboured to 
dissuade him from it ; but he is resolute. I '11 tell 
thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of 
France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of 
every man's good parts, a secret and villainous 
contriver against me his natural brother : there- 
fore, use thy discretion, I had as lief thou didst 
break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best 
look to't ; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, 
or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he 
will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by 
some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he 
hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or 
other ; for, I assure thee (and almost with tears I 
speak it), there is not one so young and so 
villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly 



30 



J2 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act I. 

of him, but should I anatomise him to thee as he 
is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale 
and wonder. 

CJia. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. 
If he come to-morrow, I '11 give him his payment : 
if ever he go alone again, I '11 never wrestle for 
prize more ; and so, God keep your worship ! 

[Exit. 

Oil. Parewell, good Charles. — Now will I stir 
this gamester. I hope I shall see an end of him ; 
for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing 
more than he : yet he 's gentle ; never schooled, 
and yet learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts 
enchantingly beloved, and indeed, so much in the 
heart of the world, and, especially of my own 
people, who best know him, that I am altogether 
misprised. But it shall not be so long; this 
wrestler shall clear all : nothing remains but that 
I kindle the boy thither, which now I '11 go about. 

[Exit, 



Scene II. — A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. 

Enter Rosalind and Celia. 

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 
merry. 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 33 

Eos. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am 
mistress of, and would you yet were merrier 1 
Unless you could teach me to forget a banished 
father, you must not learn me how to remember 
any extraordinary pleasure. 

Cel. Herein I see, thou lovest me not with the 
full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy 
banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke, 
my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I 
could have taught my love to take thy father for 
mine : so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to 
me were so righteously tempered, as mine is to 
thee. 

Hos. Well, I will forget the condition of my 
estate to rejoice in yours. 

Gel. You know, my father hath no child but I, 
nor none is like to have ; and, truly, when he dies, 
thou shalt be his heir : for what he hath taken 
away from thy father perforce, I will render thee 
again in affection : by mine honour I will ; and 
when I break that oath, let me turn monster. 
Therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be 
merry. 

Hos. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise 
sports. Let me see ; what think you of falling in 
love"? 

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee do, to make sport withal : 
B— 50 



34 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I., 

but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further 
in sport neither, than with safety, of a pure blush 
thou roay'st in honour come off again. 

Bos. What shall be our sport then ? 

Cel. Let us sit, and mock the good housewife, 
Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence- 
forth be bestowed equally. 

lios. I would we could do so ; for her benefits 
are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind 
woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 

Gel. 'T is true, for those that she makes fair she 
scarce makes honest ; and those that she makes 
honest she makes very ill-favouredly. 

Bos. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office 
to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, 
not in the lineaments of Nature. 

Unter Touchstone. ^ 

Cel. No : when Nature hath made a fair 
creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the 
fire ? — Though Nature hath given us wit to flout 
at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to 
cut off the argument 1 

Bos. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for 
Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the 
cutter-off of Nature's wit. 

Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work 



Sceuo:i.J AS YOU LIKE IT. 35 

neither, but Nature's, who, perceiving our natural 
wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent 
this natural for our whetstone, for always the 
dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. — 
How now, wit 1 whither wander you ? 

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your 
father. 

Cel Were you made the messenger ? 
Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to 
come for you. 

Mos. Where learned you that oath, fool 'i 
Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his 
honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his 
honour the mustard was naught : now, I '11 stand 
to it the pancakes were naught and the mustard 
was good, and yet was not the knight foresworn. 

Cel How prove you that, in the great heap of 
your knowledge ? 

Hos. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 
Toitch. Stand you both foi-th now : stroke your 
chins, and swear by your beards that I am a 
knave. 

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. 

But if you swear by that that is not, you are not 

forsworn : no more was this knight, swearing by 

his honour, for he never had any ; or, if he had, he 



36 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I. 

had sworn it away before ever he saw those pan- 
cakes, or that mustard. 

Gel. Pr'ythee, who is 't that thou mean'st 1 

Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, 
loves. 

Gel. My father's love is enough to honour him 
enough. Speak no more of him ; you '11 be 
whipped for taxation one of these days. 

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak 
wisely, what wise men do foolishly. 

Gel. By my troth thou say'st true ; for since the 
little wit that fools have was silenced, the little 
foolery that wise men have makes a great show. 
Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 

Enter Le Beau. 

Ros, With his mouth full of news. 

Gel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 
their young. 

Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. 

Gel. All the better; we shall be the more 
marketable. Bon jour. Monsieur Le Beau : what 's 
the news % 

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much 
good sport. 

Gel. Sport ? Of what colour % 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. J37 

Le Beau. What colour, madam ? How shall I 
answer you ? 

Ros. As wit and fortune will. 

Touch. Or as the Destinies decree. 

Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowel. 

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,— 

Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have 
told you of good wrestling which you have lost 

the sight of. 

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if 
it please your ladyships, you may see the end, for 
the best is yet to do, and here, where you are, 
they are coming to perform it. 

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and 

buried. 

Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three 

sons, — 

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 
c^rowth and presence ; — 

Ros. With bills on their necks : Be it known 
unto all men by these presents. 

Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with 
Charles, the duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a 
moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, 



38 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I. 

that there is little hope of life in him; so he 
served the second, and so the third. Yonder they 
lie, the poor old man, their father, making such 
pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take 
his part with weeping. 

Ros. Alas ! 

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 
the ladies have lost % 

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day. 
It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of 
ribs was sport for ladies. 

Gel. Or I, I promise thee. 

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this 
broken music in his sides? is there yet another 
dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this 
wrestling, cousin ? 

Le Beau. You must if you stay here, for here is 
the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are 
ready to perform it. 

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming ; let us now 
stay and see it. 

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, 
Orlando, Charles, and Attendants. 

Duke F. Come on. Since the youth will not be 
entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 



Scene 2.] A.S YOU LIKE IT. 39 

Eos. Is yonder the man 1 

Le Beau. Even he, madam. 

Gel. Alas ! he is too young : yet he looks 
successfully. 

Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin : are 
you crept hither to see the wrestling ? 

Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. 

Duhe F. You will take little delight in it, I 
can tell you, there is such odds in the man. In 
pity of the challenger's youth I would fain dis- 
suade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak 
to him, ladies, see if you can move him. 

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 

Duhe F. Do so : I '11 not be by. 

[Duke goes apart. 

Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess' 
call for you. 

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. 

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
the wrestler I 

Orl, No, fair princess ] he is the general chal- 
lenger : I come but in, as others do, to try with 
him the strength of my youth. 

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold 
for your years. You have seen cruel proof of 
this man's strength : if you saw yourself with 
your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, 



40 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I. 

the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a 
more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your 
own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give 
over this attempt. 

Ros. Do, young sir, your reputation shall not 
therefore be misprised : we will make it our suit 
to the duke, that the wrestling might not go 
forward. 

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your 
hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty 
to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But 
let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with' me to 
my trial ; wherein if I be foiled, there is but one 
shamed that was never gracious ; if killed, but one 
dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends 
no wrong, for I have none to lament me ; the 
world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; only in 
the world I fill up a place, which may be better 
supplied when I have made it empty. 

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it 
w^ere with you. 

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 

Ros. Fare you well. Pray Heaven, I be de- 
•ceived in you ! 

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. 

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is 
so desirous to lie with his mother earth % 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 41 

Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a mora 
modest working. 

Duke F. You shall try but one fall. 

Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not 
entreat him to a second, that have so mightily 
persuaded him from a first. 

Orl. You mean to mock me after : you should 
not have mocked me before : but come your 
ways. 

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man ! 

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the 
strong fellow by the leg. 

[Charles and Orlando wrestle^ 

Ros. O excellent young man ! 

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
tell who should down. 

[Charles is thrown. Shout.. 

Duke F. No more, no more. 

Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace, I am not yet 
well breathed. 

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? 

Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 

Duke F. Bear him away. 

[Charles is home out. 
What is thy name, young man 1 

Orl. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir 
Rowland de Bois. 



42 AS TOTJ LIKE IT. [Act 1. 

Duke F. I would thou liadst been son to some 
man else. 
The world esteemed thy father honourable, 
But I did find him still mine enemy : 
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this 

deed, 
Hadst thou descended from another house. 
But fare tbee well, thou art a gallant youth. 
I would thou hadst told me of another father. 
[Exeunt Duke Frederick, Train, and Le Beau. 
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do 
this 1 

Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son. 
His youngest son — and would not change that 

calling, 
To be adopted heir to Frederick. 

Bos. My father loved Sir Rowland as his 
soul, 
And all the world was of my father's mind : 
Had I before known this young man his son, 
I should have given him tears unto entreaties. 
Ere he should thus have ventured. 

Gel. Gentle cousin, 

Let us go thank him, and encourage him : 
My father's rough and envious disposition 
Sticks me at heart. — Sir, you have well deserved : 
If you do keep your promises in love 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 43 

But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, 
Your mistress shall be happy. 

Ros. Gentleman, 

\Giving him a chain from her neck. 
Wear this for me ; one out of suits with fortune, 
That could give more, but that her hand lacks 

means. 
Shall we go, coz % 

Cel. A.J. Fare you well, fair gentleman. 
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you 1 My better 
parts 
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands 

up 
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 

Ros. He calls us back. My pride fell with my 
fortunes ; 
T '11 ask him what he would. — Did you call, sir 1 — 
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
More than your enemies. 

Cel. Will you go, coz ? 

Ros. Have with you. — Fare you well. 

\_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon 
my tongue 1 
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
O poor Orlando ! thou art overthrown. 
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. 



44 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act I 

Re-enter Le Beau. 

Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel 

you 
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
High commendation, true applause, and love, 
Yet such is now the duke's condition, 
That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
The duke is humorous : what he is, indeed, 
More suits you to conceive, than I to speak of. 
Orl. I thank you, sir ; and, pray you, tell me 

this : 
Which of the two was daughter of the duke, 
Tljat here was at the wrestling 1 

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 

manners : 
But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter : 
The other is daughter to the banished duke, 
And here detained by her usurping uncle. 
To keep his daughter company ; whose loves 
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
But I can tell you, that of late this duke 
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, 
Grounded upon no other argument 
But that the people praise her for her virtues 
And pity her for her good father's sake ; 
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 



Scene 3.] AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 45 

Will suddenly break forth. — Sir, fare you well : 
Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well. 

[Exit Le Beau. 
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother, 
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother. — 
But heavenly Bosalind ! [Exit. 



Scene III. — A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Celia and Bosalind. 

Cel. Why, cousin, why, Bosalind ! — Cupid have 
mercy ! — Not a word ? 

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast 
away upon curs, throw some of them at me : come, 
lame me with reasons. 

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up, when 
the one should be lamed with reasons, and the 
other mad without any. 

Cel. But is all this for your father % 

Ros. No, some of it is for my father's child : 0, 
how full of briars is this working-day world ! 

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon 



46 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act I. 

thee IQ holiday foolery : if we walk not in the 
trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. 

JRos. I could shake them off my coat : these burs 
are in my heart. 

Cel. Hem them away. 

Eos. I would try, if I could cry hem, and have 
him. 

Gel. Come, come ; wrestle with thy affections. 

Hos. O, they take the part of a better wrestler 
than myself. 

Cel. O, a good wish upon you : you will try in 
time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests 
out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it 
possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest 
son? 

Hos. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should 
love his son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I 
should hate him, for my father hated his father 
dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando. 

Hos. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. 

Cel Why should I not ? doth he not deserve 
well? 

Eos. Let me love him for that ; and do you love 
him, because I do. — Look, here comes the duke. 

Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 



Scene 3.J AS YOU LIKE IT. , 47 

Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. 

Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest 
haste, 
A.nd get you from our court. 

Ros. Me, uncle % 

Duke F. You, cousin : 

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found 
So near our public court as twenty miles, 
Thou diest for it. 

Eos. I do beseech your grace. 

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. 
If with myself I hold intelligence. 
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, 
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic 
(As I do trust I am not) then, dear uncle, 
Never so much as in a thought unborn 
Did I offend your highness. 

Duke F. Thus do all traitors. 

If their purgation did consist in words, 
They are as innocent as grace itself. 
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. 

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a 
traitor. 
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter ; there 's 
enough. 



48 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act I. 

JRos. So was I when your highness took his 
dukedom ; 
So was I when your highness banished him. 
Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
Or, if we did derive it from our friends. 
What 's that to me ? my father was no traitor. 
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, 
To think my poverty is treacherous. 

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 

Duke F. Ay, Celia^ we stayed her for your sake; 
Else had she with her father ranged along. 

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, 
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse. 
I was too young that time to value her, 
But now I know her : if she be a traitor, 
Why, so am I : we still have slept together, 
E-ose at an instant, learned, played, eat together ; 
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled and inseparable. 

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee, and her 
smoothness, 
Her very silence, and her patience, 
Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
'Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name, 
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more 

virtuous, 
^hen she is gone. Then, open not thy lips : 



Scene 3.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 49 

Firm and irrevocable is my doom 

Which I have passed upon her. She is banished. 

Cel. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my 
liege : 
I cannot live out of her company. 

Duke F. You are a fool : — You, niece, provide 
yourself : 
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, 
And in the greatness of my word, you die. 

[Exeunt Duhe Frederick and Lords. 

Cel. O my poor Rosalind ! vs^^hither wilt thou 
go? 
Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. 
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. 

Ros. I have more cause. 

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin. 

Pr'ythee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the duke 
Hath banished me, his daughter '\ 

Bos. That he hath not. 

Cel. No 1 hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the 
lov^e 
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. 
Shall we be sundered 1 shall we part, sweet girl % 
No : let my father seek another heir. 
Therefore, devise with me how we may fly, 
Whither to go, and what to bear with us : 
And do not seek to take your change upon you, 



50 AS YOU LIKE IT. fAct I. 

To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out : 
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
Say what thou canst, I '11 go along with thee. 

Mos. Why, whither shall we go ? 

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. 

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us. 
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! 
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, 
Ajid with a kind of umber smirch my face. 
The like do you : so shall we pass along, 
And never stir assailants. 

Ros. Were it not better, 

Because that I am more than common tall. 
That I did suit me all points like a man 1 
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, 
A boar-spear in my hand, and, in my heart 
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will, 
We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside. 
As many other mannish cowards have 
That do outface it with their semblances. 

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a 
man % 

Ros. I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own 
page. 
And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
But what will you be called % 



Scene 3.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 51 

Gel. Something that hath a reference to my 
state : 
No longer Celia, but Aliena. 

Ros. But, cousin, what if we essayed to steal 
The clownish fool out of your father's court % 
Would he not be a comfort to our travel % 

Gel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with 
me, 
Leave me alone to woo him. Let 's away, 
And get our jewels and our wealth together, 
Devise the fittest time and safest way 
To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
After my flight. Now go we in content 
To liberty, and not to banishment. [UxeurU. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — The Forest of Arden. 

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three 
Lords, like foresters. 

Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp 1 Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court 1 



52 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act H. 

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 

The seasons' difference ; as the icy fang, 

And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, 

Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 

Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say. 

This is no flattery : these are counsellors 

Tliat feelingly persuade me what I am. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity. 

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 

And this our life, exempt from public haunt. 

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 

Sermons in stones, and good in everything. 

Arni. I would not change it. Happy is your 
grace, 
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
Into so quiet and' so sweet a style, 

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison 1 
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools. 
Being native burghers of this desert city. 
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads 
Have their round haunches gored. 

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, 

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
And in that kind swears you do more usurp 
Than doth your brother that hath banished you. 
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself 



Scene l.") AS YOU LIKE IT. 53 

Did steal behind him as he lay along 
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood, 
To the which place a poor sequestered stag. 
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
Did come to languish : and, indeed, my lord, 
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans, 
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears 
Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool, 
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook. 
Augmenting it with tears. 

Duke S. But what said Jaques 1 

Did he not moralise this spectacle ? 

1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes. 
First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; 
* Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou mak'st a testament 
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
To that which had too much.' Then, beinsf there 

alone. 
Left and abandoned of his velvet friends ; 
' 'Tis right,' quoth he ; ' thus misery doth part 
The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd, 
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him. 
And never stays to greet him : 'Ay,' quoth Jaques, 



54 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

* Sweep on, jou fat and greasy citizens ; 
'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? ' 
Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
The body of the country, city, court, 
Yea, and of this our life ; swearing, that we 
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, 
To fright the animals, and to kill them up 
In their assigned and native dwelling-place. 

Duke S. And did you leave him in this con- 
templation ? 

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
menting 
Upon the sobbing deer. 

Duke S. Show me the place. 

I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 
For then he's full of matter. 

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [^Exeunt. 



Scene II. — A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendants. 

Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them % 
It cannot be : some villains of my court 
Are of consent and sufferance in this. 



Scene 3.J AS YOU LIKE IT. 55 

1 Lord. I cannot hear of anj that did see her. 
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 

Saw her a-bed ; and, in the morning early, 

They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. 

2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft 
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, 

Confesses that she secretly o'erheard 

Your daughter and her cousin much commend 

The parts and graces of the wrestler 

That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 

And she believes, wherever they are gone, 

That youth is surely in their company. 

Duke F. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant 
hither ; 
If he be absent, bring his brother to me, 
I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly, 
And let not search and inquisition quail 
To bring again these foolish runaways. \Exe'u,nt. 



Scene III. — Before Oliver's House. 

Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. 

Orl. Who's there 1 

Adam. What, my young master? — O my gentle 
master, 



56 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

my sweet master, O you memory 

Of old Sir Rowland ; why, what make you here t 

Why are you virtuous 1 why do people love you ? 

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant 1 

Why would you be so fond to overcome 

The bony p riser of the humorous duke ? 

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 

Know you not, master, to some kind of men 

Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 

No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, 

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 

O, what a world is this, when what is comely 

Envenoms him that bears it ! 

Orl. Why, what's the matter? 

Adavfi. O unhappy youth, 

Come not within these doors : within this roof 
The enemy of all your graces lives. 
Your brother — (no, no brother : yet the son — 
Yet not the son— I will not call him son 
Of him I was about to call his father) — 
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie, 
And you within it : if he fail of that. 
He will have other means to cut you off. 

1 overheard him, and his practices. 

This is no place, this house is but a butchery ; 
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 



Scene 3.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 57 

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have 
me go 1 

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not 
here. 

Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg 
my food, 
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
A thievish living on the common road 1 
This I must do, or know not what to do ; 
Yet this I will not do, do how I can. 
I rather will subject me to the malice 
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. 

Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred 
crowns. 
The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 
And unregarded age in corners thrown : 
Take that ; and He that doth the ravens feed, 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
All this I give you. Let me be your servant : 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; « 



58 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you : 
I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

Orl. good old man, how well in thee appears 
The constant service of the antique world, 
When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
Where none will sweat but for promotion ; 
And having that, do choke their service up 
Even with the having : it is not so with thee. 
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree 
That cannot so much as a blossom yield 
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 
But come thy ways ; we'll go along together ; 
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
We'll light upon some settled low content. 

Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee 
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty, 
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore, 
Here liv^d I, but now live here no more. 
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
But at fourscore it is too late a week : 
Yet Fortune cannot recompense me better 
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 

\ExeuiU. 



n 



Scene 4.3 AS YOU LIKE IT. 59 



Scene IY. — The Forest of Arden. 

Enter Rosalind in hoy's clothes, Celt a dressed 
like a shepherdess, and Touchstone. 

Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits ! 

Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
not weary. 

Eos. I could find in my heart to disgrace my 
man's apparel, and to cry like a woman ; but I 
must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and 
hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat : 
therefore, courage, good Aliena. 

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no 
further. 

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with 
you than bear you : yet I should bear no cross, if 
I did bear you ; for I think you have no money in 
your purse. 

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 

Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool 
I ; when I was at home, I was in a better place : 
but travellers must be content. 

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. — Look you, 
who comes here ; a young man, and an old, in 
solemn talk. 



60 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Enter Corin and Silvius. 

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you 
still. 

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love 
her ! 

Cor. I partly guess, for I have loved ere now. 

Sil. No, Corin ; being old, thou canst not guess. 
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow : 
But if thy love were ever like to mine, 
As sure I think did never man love so. 
How many actions most ridiculous 
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy % 

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 

Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily •: 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not sat, as I do now, 
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not broke from company 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not loved. — O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! 

[Exit 

Bos. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy 



Scene*.] AS YOtJ LIKE IT. 61 

wound, I have by hard adventure found mine 
own. 

Touch. And I mine. I remember, whpn I was 
in love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid 
him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile ; 
and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the 
cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had 
milked ; and I remember the wooing of a peascod 
instead of her, from whom I took two cods, and, 
giving her them again, said with weeping tears, 
'Wear these for my sake.' We that are true 
lovers run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal 
in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. 

Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. 

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own 
wit till I break my shins against it. 

Ros. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion 
Is much upon my fashion. 

Touch. And mine ; but it grows something stale 
with me. 

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, 
If he for gold will give us any food : 
I faint almost to death. 

Touch. Holla, you clown ! 

Ros. Peace, fool : he's not thy kinsman. 

Cor. Who calls 1 

Touch. Your betters, sir. 



62 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Cor. Else are they very wretched. 

Ros. Peace, I say. — 

Good even to you, friend. 

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 

Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold 
Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed. 
Here 's a young maid with travel much oppressed, 
And faints for succour. 

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, 

And wish, for her sake m.ore than for mine own. 
My fortunes were more able to relieve her ; 
But I am shepherd to another man, 
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze ; 
My master is of churlish disposition, 
And little recks to find the way to heaven 
By doing deeds of hospitality : 
Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, 
Are now on sale ; and at our sheepcote now, 
By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
That you will feed on ; but what is, come see, 
And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
pasture % 

Cor. That young swain that you saw here but 
erewhile, 
That little cares for buying anything. 



Scenes.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 63 

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, 
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 

Gel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this 
place, 
And willingly could waste my time in it. 

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold : 
Go with me : if you like, upon report, 
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
I will your very faithful feeder be, 
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 

\^Exeunt. 



Scene Y. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. 

Song. 
Aimi. Under the greenwood tree 

Who loves to lie with me, 
And tune his merry note 
Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither: 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 

Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. 



64 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act U. 

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur 
Jaques. 

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I 
can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel 
sucks eggs. More, I pr'ythee, more. 

Ami. My voice is ragged ; I know I cannot 
please you. 

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me ; I do 
desire you to sing. Come, more ; another stanza. 
Call you 'em stanzas ? 

Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. 

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names j they owe 
me nothing. Will you sing ? 

Ami. More at your request than to please 
myself. 

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I '11 
thank you : but that they call compliment is like 
the encounter of two dog-apes ; and when a man 
thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a 
penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. 
Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your 
tongues. 

Ami. Well, I'll end the song. — Sirs, cover the 
while ; the duke will drink under this tree. — He 
hath been all this day to look you. 

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid 
him. He is too disputable for my company : I 



Scene 5.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 65 

think of as many matters as lie ; but I give 
Heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. 
Come, warble, come. 

Song. 

[^All together here. 
Who doth ambition shu7i^ 
And loves to live i' the sun. 
Seeking the food he eats, 
And pleased with what he gets, 
Gome hither, come hither, come hither : 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough lueather. 

Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I 
made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
Ami. And I '11 sing it. 
Jaq. Thus it goes — 

If it do come to pass 
That any tnan turn ass, 
Leaving his wealth and ease 
A stubborn will to please, 
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame : 
Here shall he see 
Gross fools as he, 
An if he will come to me. 
c— 50 



€6 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Ami. What 's that ducdame ? 

Jaq. 'T is a Greek invocation to call fools into a 
<circle, I '11 go sleep if I can ; if I cannot, 1 11 rail 
against all the first-born of Egypt, 

Ajni. And I '11 go seek the duke : his banquet is 
prepared. \_£Jxeunt severally, i 



Scene VJ. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter Orlando and Adam. 

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : O, I 
die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out 
my grave. Farewell, kind master. 

Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart 
in thee 1 Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer 
thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any- 
thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring 
it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death 
than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable, 
hold death awhile at the arm's end : I will here be 
with thee presently, and if I bring thee not some- 
thing to eat, I will give thee leave to die : but if 
thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my 
labour. Well scid, thou look's t cheerily ; and I '11 
be with thee quickly. — Yet thou liest in the bleak 



Scene?.] AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 67 

air : come, I will bear thee to some shelter, and 
thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there 
live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! 

[Exeunt. 



Scene YII. — Another Pa,rt of the Eorest. 

A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and 

others. 
Duke S. I think he be transformed into a beast, 
For I can nowhere find him like a man. 

1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone 
hence : 
Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 

Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, 
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. ' 
Go, seek him : tell him, I would speak with him. 
1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own 
approach. 

Enter Jaques. 

« 

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur, what a life 
is this. 
That your poor friends must woo your company 1 
What, you loolss merrily. 

Jaq. A fool, a fool ! — I met a fool i' the forest, 
A motley fool ; — a miserable world ! — 



68 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act H. 

As I do live by food, I met a fool, 
Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, 
And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms. 
In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool ! 

* Good morrow, fool,' quoth I : — ' No, sir,' quoth 

he, .' 

* Call me not fool, till Heaven hath sent me 

fortune.' 
And then he drew a dial from his poke, 
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock : 
Thus may we see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags : 
'T is but an hour ago since it was nine. 
And after one hour more 't will be eleven : 
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, 
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, 
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear 
The motley fool thus moral on the time. 
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 
That fools should be so deep-contemplative ; 
And I did laugh, sans intermission. 
An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! 
A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear. 

Duke S. What fool is this ? 

Jaq. O worthy fool ! — One that hath been a 
courtier. 
And says, if ladies be but young and fair, 



Scene?.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 69 

They have the gift to know it ; and in his brain, 

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 

After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed 

With observation, the which he vents 

In mangled forms. — O, that I were a fool ! 

I am ambitious for a motley coat. 

Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 

Jaq. It is my only suit ; 

Provided that you weed your better judgments 
Of all opinion that grows rank in them 
That I am wise. I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : 
And they that are most galled with my folly 
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they 

so? 
The way is plain as way to parish church : 
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
Not to seem senseless of the bob ; if not. 
The wise man's folly is anatomised 
Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
To speak my mind, and I will through and 

through 
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
If they will patiently receive my medicine. 



70 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Duhe S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou 
^ wouldst do. 

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good 1 

Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding 
sin : 
For thou thyself hast been a libertine, 
As sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils 
That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 
That can therein tax any private party? 
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, 
Till that the customary means do ebb 1 
What woman in the city do I name, 
When that I say the city-woman bears 
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? 
Who can come in, and say that I mean her. 
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? 
Or what is he of basest function, 
That says his bravery is not on my cost, — 
Thinking that I mean him, — but therein suits 
His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
There then ; how then 1 what then 1 Let me see 

wherein 
My tongue hath wronged him : if it do him right, 
Then he hath wronged himself ; if he be free. 



Scene 7.^ AS YOU LIKE IT. 71 

Why, then my taxing like a wild-goose flies. 
Unclaimed of any man. — But who comes here ? 

Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn. 

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. • 

Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. 

Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. 

Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of ? 

Duke S. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy 
distress, 
Or else a rude despiser of good manners. 
That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? 

Orl. You touched my vein at first : the thorny 
point 
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
Of smooth civility ; yet am I inland bred. 
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say : 
He dies that touches any of this fruit. 
Till I and my aflPairs are answered. 

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason,, 
I must die. 

Duke S. What would you have 1 Your gentle- 
ness shall force. 
More than your force move us to gentleness. 

Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. 

Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our 
fcnble. 



72 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act II. 

OrL Speak you so gently % Pardon me, I pray 
you: 
l thought that all things had been savage here, 
And therefore put I on the countenance 
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are, 
That in this desert inaccessible, 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs. 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time : 
If ever you have looked on better days, 
If ever been where bells have knolled to church, 
Jf ever sat at any good man's feast, 
If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear^ 
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied, 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 

Duhe S. True is it that we have seen better 
days, 
And have with holy bell been knolled to church. 
And sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes 
Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered : 
And therefore sit you down in gentleness. 
And take upon command what help we have 
That to your wanting may be ministered. 

Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while 
l^hiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, 
And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
Who after me hath many a weary step 



Scene 7.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 7S. 

Limped in pure love : till he be first sufficed, — 
Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, — 
I will not touch a bit. 

Duke S. Go find him out, 

And we will nothing waste till you return. 

Orl. I thank ye, and be blessed for your good 
comfort ! [ExiL 

Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un- 
happy : 
This wide and universal theatre 
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
Wherein we play in. 

Jaq- All the world 's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
And then, the whining school-boy, with his 

satchel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,. 
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier. 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 



74 AS YOTT LIKE IT. [Act II. 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the 

justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances ; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

Re-enter Orlando, with Adam. 

Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable 
burden, 
And let him feed. 

Orl. I thank you most for him. 

Adam. So had you need : 
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 

Duke S. Welcome ; fall to : I will not trouble 
you 
As yet to question you about your fortunes. 
Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 



Scene 7.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 75 

Song. 

Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind. 

Thou art not so unkind 

As TiiaTbS ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Because thou art not seen, 
A Ithough thy breath be rude. 
Heigh, ho I sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. 
Then, heigh, ho ! the holly ! 
This life is Tnost jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot : 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 
As friend rememliered not. 
Heigh, ho ! sing,. &g. 

Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Eowland's 
son, 
As you have whispered faithfully you were, 
And as mine eye doth his efi&gies witness 
Most truly limned and living in your face, 
Be truly welcome hither. I'm the duke, 



76 AS YOU LIKE IT. L-A-ct IIL 

That loved your father. The residue of your for- 
tune, 
Go to my cave and tell me. — Good old man, 
Thou art right welcome as thy master is. 
Support him by the arm. — Give me your hand, — 
And let me all your fortunes understand. \_Bxeuni. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Duke Frederick, Oliver, and attendants. 

Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that can- 
not be : 
But were I not the better part made mercy, 
I should not seek an absent argument 
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it : 
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is ; 
Seek him with candle ; bring him, dead or living, 
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
To seek a living in our territory. 
Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine. 
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands. 
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth 
Of what we think against thee. 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT, 'J'? 

on. O, that your highness knew my heart in 
this! 
I never loved my brother in my life. 

Duke F. More villain thou. — Well, push him 
out of doors ; 
And let my officers of such a nature 
Make an extent upon his house and lands. 
Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exeunt. 



;ScENE II. — The Forest of Arden. 

Enter Orlando, with a paper. 

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. 
O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books, 
And in their barks my thoughts I '11 character. 
That every eye, which in this forest looks. 
Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere. 
Run, run, Orlando : carve on every tree 
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. [Exit. 

Enter Corin and Touchstone. 

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, 
Master Touchstone % 



78 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act III. 

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is 
a good life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's 
life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I 
like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, 
it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the 
fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not 
in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, 
look you, it fits my humour well ; but as there is 
no more plenty in it^ it goes much against my 
stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shep- 
herd % 

Cor. No more but that I know the more one 
sickens the worse at ease he is ; and that he that 
wants money, means, and content, is without three 
good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet, 
and fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat 
sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack 
of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by 
Nature nor Art may complain of good breeding, or 
comes of a very dull kindred. 

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 

Cor. No, truly. 

Touch. Then thou art damned. 

Cor. Nay, I hope, — 

Touch. Truly, thou art damned; like an ill- 
roasted eg^, all on one side. 



Scene 2.J AS YOU LIKE IT. 79' 

Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 

Touch. Why, if tliou never wast at court, thoit. 
never saw'st good manners ; if thou never saw'st 
good maimers, then thy manners must be wicked ; 
and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou 
art in a parlous state, shepherd. 

Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that are 
good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the 
country as the behaviour of the country is most 
mockable at the court. You told me you salute 
not at the court, but you kiss your hands : that 
courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were 
shepherds. 

Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes j and 
their fells, you know, are greasy. 

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat 1 
and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as 
the sweat of a man 1 Shallow, shallow. A better 
instance, I say ; come. 

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 

Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner : 
shallow again. A more sounder instance, come. 

Cor. And they are often tarred over with the 
surgery of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss 
tar % The courtier's hands are perfumed with 
civet. 



7{2 .80 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act III. 

Touch. Most shallow man ! Thou wormsmeat 
in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! — Learn 
of the wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser birth 
than tar ; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend 
the instance, shepherd. 

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me : I '11 
rest. 

Touch. Wilt thou rest damned 1 God help thee, 
shallow man : God make incision in thee, thou 
art raw. 

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer : I earn that I 
eat, get that I wear ; owe no man hate, envy no 
man's happiness ; glad of other men's good, content 
with my harm ; and the greatest of my pride is, to 
see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. 

Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to 
bring the ewes and the rams together, and to ofler to 
get your living by the copulation of cattle ; to be 
bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of 
a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old cuckoldly 
ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not 
damned for this, the devil himself will have no 
shepherds : I cannot see else how thou should'st 
■scape. 

Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my 
aiew mistress's brother. 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 8i 

Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. 
Mo8. From the east to western Ind 
No jewel is like Rosalind. 
Her worth, being mounted on the wind^ 
Through all the world hears Rosalind. 
All the pictures fairest lined 
Are hut black to Rosalind. 
Let no face be kept in mind 
But the face of Rosalind. 

Touch. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, 
dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted : 
it is the right butter-women's rank to mai-ket. 
Ros. Out, fool ! 
Touch. For a taste : — 

If a hart do lack a hind. 

Let him seek out Rosalind. 

If the cat will after kind, 

So, be sure, will Rosalind. 

Winter garments must be lined, 

So must slender Rosalind. 

They that reap must sheaf and bind. 

Then to cart with Rosalind. 

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 

Such a nut is Rosalind. 

He that sweetest rose will find, 

Must find love's prick and Rosalind. 



7J5 '82 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act. III. 

This is tlie very false gallop o£ verses : why do you 
infect yourself with them 1 

Ros. Peace, you dull fool : I found them on a tree. 

Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 

Ros. I '11 graff it with you, and then I shall 
graff it with a medlar : then it will be the earliest 
fruit i' the country : for you '11 be rotten ere you be 
half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. 

Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or 
no, let the forest judge. , 

Ros. Peace ! 
Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside. 

Enter Celia, reading a paper. 

Cel. Why should this a desert be ? 

For it is unpeopled ? No ; 
Tongues I ^11 hang on every tree, 

That shall civil sayings show. 
Some, how hrief the life of man 

Runs his erring pilgrimage, 
That the stretching of a span 

Buckles in his sum of age. 
Some, of violated vows 

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : 
But upon the fairest houghs, 

Or at every sentence' end, 
Will I Rosalinda write ; 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 83 

Teaching all that read^ to know 
The quintessence of every sprite 

Heaven would in little show. 
Therefore Heaven Nature charged 

That one body should he filled 
With all graces wide enlarged ; 

Nature presently distilled 
HelerCs cheeh, hut not her heart, 

Cleopatra's majesty, 
Atalanta^s hetter part, 

Sad Lucretia's modesty. 
Thus Rosalind of many parts 

By heavenly synod ivas devised, 
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts 

To have the touches dearest prized. 
Heaven woidd that she these gijts should have. 

And I to live and die her slave. 

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily 
of love have you wearied your parishioners withal 
and never cried, ' Have patience, good people ! ' 

Cel. How now 1 back friends : shepherd, go off 
a little — go with him, sirrah. 

Touch. Come, shepherd, let lis make an honour- 
able retreat ; though not with bag and baggage, yet 
with scrip and scrippage. 

[Exeunt Corin and Touchstone. 



84 AS YOU LIKE IT. tAct ni. 

Gel. Didst thou hear these verses % 

Ros. 0, yes, I beard them all, and more too; for 
some of them had in them more feet than the 
verses would bear. 

Cel. That 's no matter : the feet might bear the 
verses. 

Ros. A.J, but the feet were lame, and could not 
bear themselves without the verse, and therefore 
stood lamelj in the verse. 

Gel. But didst thou hear without wondering 
how thy name should be hanged and carved upon 
these trees % 

Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the 
wonder before you came ; for look here what I 
found on a palm-tree : I was never so be-rhymed 
since Pythagoras' time, that T was an Irish rat, 
which I can hardly remember. 

Gel. Trow you, who hath done this % 

Ros. Is it a man 1 

Gel. And a chain, that you once wore, about, 
his neck. Change you colour 1 

Ros. I pr'ythee, who 1 

Gel. O Lord, Lord ! it is a hard matter for 
friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed 
with earthquakes, and so encounter. 

Ros. Nay, but who is if? 

Gel. Is it possible 1 



Scene 2.J AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 85 

Ros. Nay, I pr'y thee, now, with most petitionaay 
vehemence, tell me who it is, 

Cel. O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder- 
ful wonderful ! and yet again wonderful ! and after 
that, out of all whooping ! 

Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, 
though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a 
doublet and hose in my disposition 1 One inch of 
delay more is a South Sea of discovery ; I pr'y thee, 
tell me, who is it, quickly, and speak apace. I 
would thou couldst stammer, that though mightst 
pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as 
wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle ; either 
too much at once, or none at alL I pr'ythee, take 
the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy 
tidings. 

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. 

Ros. Is he of God's making % What manner of 
man 1 Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth 
a beard 1 

Gel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 

Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will 
be thanlcful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, 
if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 

Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the 
wrestler's heels and your heart, both in an in- 
stant. 



86 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act III. 

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking : speak, 
sad brow and true maid. 

Cel. V faith, coz, 'tis he. 

Ros. Orlando % 

Cel. Orlando. 

Bos. Alas the day ! what shall I do with my 
doublet and hose 1 — What did he when thou saw'st 
him 1 What said he ? How look'd he ? Where- 
in went he 1 What makes he here 1 Did he ask 
for me 1 Where remains he 1 How parted he 
with thee, and when shalt thou see him again 1 
Answer me in one word. 

Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth 
first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this 
age's size. To say ay and no to these particulars 
is more than to answer in a catechism. 

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, 
and in man's apparel % Looks he as freshly as he 
did the day he wrestled? 

Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve 
the propositions of a lover : but take a taste of my 
finding him, and relish it with good observance. I 
found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. 

Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it 
drops forth such fruit. 

Cel. Give me audience, good madam 

Ros. Proceed. 



Scene 2."] AS YOIJ LIKE IT. _ 87 

Cel, There lay he, stretched along like a wounded 
knight. 

Bos. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it 
well becomes the ground. 

Cel. Cry holla to thy tongue, I pr'ythee : it 
curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a 
hunter. 

Bos. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. 

Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : 
thou bringest me out of tune. 

Bos. Do you not know I am a woman? when I 
think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 

Cel. You bring me out. — -Soft ! comes he not 
here % 

Bos. 'Tis he : slink by, and note him. 

[Rosalind and Celia retire. 

Enter Orlando and Jaques. 

Jaq. I thank you for your company • "Vut, good 
faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. 

Orl. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion's sake, 
I thank you too for your society. 

Jaq. God buy you : let's meet as little as we 
can. 

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with 
writing love-songs in their barks. 



88 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act ni. 

Orl, I pray you, mar no more of my verses witli 
reading them ill-favouredly. 

Jaq. Kosalind is your love's name % 

Orl. Yes, just. 

Jaq. I do not like her name. 

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you 
when she was christened. 

Jaq. What stature is she of % 

Orl. Just as high as my heart. 

Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have 
you not been acquainted with goldsmiths* wives, 
and conned them out of rings ? 

Orl. JSTot so ; but I answer you right painted 
cloth, from whence you have studied your 
questions. 

Jaq. You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas 
made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with 
me ? and we two will rail against our mistress the 
world, and all our misery. 

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but 
myself, against whom I know most faults. 

Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in 
love. 

Orl. 'T is a fault I will not change for your best 
virtue. I am weary of you. 

Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool 
when I found you. 



Scene 2.J AS YOtJ LIKE IT. 89 

Orl. He is drowned in the brook : look but in, 
and you shall see him. 

Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. 

Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a 
cypher. 

Jaq. I '11 tarry no longer with you : farewell, 
good Signior Love. 

Orl. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good 
Monsieur Melancholy. 

[Exit Jaques. —Rosalind and Celia cojne 

forward. 

Bos. [Aside to Celia.] I will speak to him like 
a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the 
knave with him. — Do you hear, forester 1 

Orl. Very well : what would you 1 

Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock 1 

Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day : 
there's no clock in the forest. 

Bos. Then, there is no true lover in the forest ; 
else sighing every minute, and groaning every 
hour, would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as 
a clock. 

Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time 1 had 
not that been as proper % 

Bos. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers 
paces with divers persons. I '11 tell you, who 
Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who 



90 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act Ill- 

Time gallops withal, and who he stands still 
withal. 

Orl. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal 1 

Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid^ 
between the contract of her marriage and the day 
it is solemnised : if the interim be but a se'nnight, 
Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of 
seven years. 

Orl. Who ambles Time withal 1 

Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich 
man that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps 
easily, because he cannot study ; and the other 
lives merrily because he feels no pain : the one 
lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning ;, 
the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious 
penury. These Time ambles withal. 

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 

Ros. With a thief to the gallows ; for though he 
go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too 
soon there. 

Orl. Who stays it still withal 1 

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they 
sleep between term and term, and then they per- 
ceive not how Time moves. 

Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth 1 

Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in 
the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. 



Sceue 2.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 91 

Orl. Are you native of this place ? 

Hos. As the cony, that you see dwell where 
she is kindled. 

Orl. Your accent is something finer than you 
could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 

Bos. I have been told so of many : but, indeed, 
an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 
who was in his youth an inland man ; one that 
knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. 
I have heard him read many lectures against it ; 
and I thank God, I am not a woman, to be touched 
with so many giddy offences as he hath generally 
taxed their whole sex withal. 

Orl. Can you remember any of the principal 
evils that he laid to the charge of women ? 

Hos. There were none principal : they were all 
like one another, as half-pence are ; every one 
fault seeming monstrous till its fellow fault came 
to match it. 

Orl. I pr'ythee, recount some of them. 

Bos. No ; I will not cast away my physic but 
on those that are sick. There is a man li aunts 
the forest, that abuses our young plants with 
carving E/Osalind on their barks ; hangs odes upon 
hawthorns, and elegies on brambles ; all, forsooth, 
deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet 
that fancy- monger, I would give him some good 



92 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act III. 

counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love 
upon him. 

Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked : I pray you, 
tell me your remedy. 

Eos. There is none of my uncle's marks upon 
you : he taught me how to know a man in love ; 
in which cage of rushes. I am sure, you are not 
prisoner. 

Orl. What were his marks'? 

Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue 
eye, and sunken, which you have not; an un- 
questionable spirit, which you have not ; a beard 
neglected, which you have not : — but I pardon you 
for that, for simply, your having in beard is a 
younger brother's revenue. — Then your hose should 
be ungartered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve 
unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything 
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. 
But you are no such man : you are rather point- 
device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself, 
than seeming the lover of any other. 

Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee 
believe I love. 

Ros. Me believe it % you may as soon make her 
that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is 
apter to do than to confess she does ; that is one 
of the points in the which women still give the lie 



Scene 2. J AS TOTJ LIKE IT. 93 

( 

to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you 
he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein 
Rosalind is so admired 1 

Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand 
of Kosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 

Hos. But are you so much in love as your 
rhymes speak ? 

Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 
much. 

Bos. Love is merely a madness ; and, I tell you, 
deserves as well a dark house and a whip as mad- 
men do ; and the reason why they are not so 
punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary 
that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess 
curing it by counsel. 

Orl. Did you ever cure any so ? 

-ffos. Yes, one ; and in this manner. He was to 
imagine me his love, his mistress, and I set him 
every day to woo me : at which time would I, 
being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, 
changeable, longing, and liking ; proud, fantastical, 
apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of 
smiles ; for every passion something, and for no 
passion truly anything, as boys and women are, 
for the most part, cattle of this colour : would now 
like him, now loathe him ; then entertain him, then 
forswear him ; now weep for him, then spit at him ; 



94 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act III. 

that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of 
love, to a living humour of madness, which was, 
to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live 
in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured 
him ; and in this way will I take upon me to wash 
your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that 
there thall not be one spot of love in 't. 

Orl. I would not be cured, youth. 

Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me 
Itosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo 
me. 

Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell 
me where it is. 

Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you ; 
and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the 
forest you live. Will you go? 

Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 

Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. — Come, 
sister, will you go ? . [Exeunt. 



Scene III. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind. 

Touch. Come apace, good Audrey : I will fetch 
up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey 1 am I 
the man yet 1 doth my simple feature content you % 



Scenes.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 95 

Aud. Your features 1 Lord warrant us ! what 
features 1 

I'ouch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as 
the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among 
the Goths. 

Jaq. \^Aside.'\ O knowledge, ill-inhabited, worse 
than Jove in a thatched house ! 

Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- 
stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the 
forward child understanding, it strikes a man more 
dead than a great reckoning in a little room. — 
Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. 

Aud. I do not know what poetical is. Is it 
honest in deed and word % Is it a true thing % 

Touch. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the 
most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry, and 
what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers 
they do feign. 

Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made 
me poetical % 

Touch. I do, truly ; for thou swear'st to me 
thou art honest : now, if thou wert a poet, I might 
have some hope thou didst feign. 

Aud. Would you not have me honest % 

Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard- 
favoured, for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have 
honey a sauce to sugar. 



96 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act IH. 

Jaq. [Aside.'\ A. material fooL 

Aud. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray 
the gods make me honest. 

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a 
foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean 
dish. 

Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods 
I am foul. 

Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 
ness : sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it 
as it may be, I will marry thee ; and to that end, 
I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of 
the next village, who hath promised to meet me in 
this place of the forest, and to couple us. 

Jaq. [Aside.'\ I would fain see this meeting. 

Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! 

Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a 
fearful heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here 
we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but 
horn-beasts. But what though 1 Courage ! As 
horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said, 
' Many a man knows no end of his goods ' : right ; 
many a man has good horns, and knows no end of 
them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife ; 't is 
none of his own getting. Horns, even so^ Poor men 
alone? — No, no; the noblest deer hath them as 
huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore 



Scenes.] AS YOTJ LIF' IT. 97 

blessed 1 No : as a walled town is more worthier 
than a village, so is the forehead of a married man 
more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor ; 
and by how much defence is better than no skill, 
by so much is a horn more precious than to want. 
Here comes Sir Oliver. 

Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text. 

Sir Oliver Mar-text^ you are well met : will you 
despatch us here under this tree, or shall we go 
with you to your chapel ? 

Sir OIL Is there none here to give the woman ? 

Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. 

Sir on. Truly, she must be given, or the 
marrias^e is not lawful. 

Jaq. [Coming forward?^ Proceed, proceed : I ^11 
give her. 

Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't : 
how do you, sir % You are very well met : God ild 
j^ou for your last company : I am very glad to see 
you. — Even a toy in hand here, sir. — Nay ; pray, 
be covered. 

Jaq. Will you be married, motley % 

Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse 
his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his 
desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 
nibbling. 

D— 50 



98 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act HI. 

Jac[. And will you, being a man of your breeding, 
be married under a bush, like a beggar ? Get you 
to cliurcb, and have a good priest that can tell you 
what marriage is : this fellow will but join you 
together as they join wainscot ; then one of you 
will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green timber, 
warp, warp. 

Touch. \Aside?\ I am not in the mind but I were 
better to be married of him than of another ; for 
he is not like to marry me well ; and not being 
well married, it will be a good excuse for me here- 
after to leave my wife. 

Jaq, Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey : 
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. 
Farewell, good Master Oliver ! — Not, 
O sweet Oliver ! 
O brave Oliver ! 
Leave me not behind thee : 
but, — 

Wind away, 
Begone, I say, 
I will not to wedding with thee. 
\Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. 
Sir OIL 'T is no matter : ne'er a fantastical 
knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. 

[Emt. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 99 



Scene IY. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Before a Cottage. 

Enter Rosalind and Celia. 

Bos. Never talk to me ; I will weep. 

Gel. Do, I pr'ythee ; but yet have the grace to 
consider that tears do not become a man. 

Bos. But have I not cause to weep ? 

Gel. As good cause as one would desire ; there- 
fore weep. 

Bos. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. 

Gel. Something browner than Judas's. Marry, 
his kisses are Judas's own children. 

Bos. I 'faith, his hair is of a good colour. 

Gel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was 
ever the only colour. 

Bos. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the 
touch of holy bread. 

Gel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : 
a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more reli- 
giously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. 

Bos. But why did he swear he would come this 
morning, and comes not % 

Gel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 

Bos. Do you think so ? 

Gel. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a 



100 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act HI. 

horse - stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do 
think him as concave as a covered goblet or a 
worm-eaten nut. 

\Ros. Not true in love 1 

Gel. YeSj when he is in ; but 1 think he is not in. 

Eos. You have heard him swear downright he 
was. 

Cel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a lover 
is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they 
are both the confirmers of false reckonings. He 
attends here in the forest on the duke your father. 

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much 
question with him. He asked me, of what 
parentage I was : I told him, of as good as he ; so 
he laughed and let me go. But what talk we of 
fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando 1 

Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave 
verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and 
breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the 
heart of his lover ; as a puny tilter that spurs his 
horse but on one side breaks his staff like a noble 
goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and 
folly guides. — ^Who comes here ? 

Enter Corin. 

Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft in- 
quired 



Scene 5.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 101 

After th*e shepherd that complained of love, 
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf 
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
That was his mistress. 

Cel. Well, and what of him ? 

Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played 
Between the pale complexion of true love 
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
Gro hence a little, and I shall conduct you, 
If you will mark it. 

Eos. O, come, let us remove : 

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. — 
Bring us to see this sight, and you shall say 
I '11 prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt. 



Scene Y. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Silvius a^id Fhebe. 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not^ 
Phebe : 
Say that you love me not ; but say not so 
In bitterness. The common executioner, 
Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes 

hard, 
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck 



102 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. fAct III. 

But first begs pardon : will you sterner be 
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops 1 
Enter E-osalind, Celia, and Coein, behind. 

Phe. I would not be thy executioner : 
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 
'T is pretty, sure, and very probable. 
That eyes — that are the frail'st and softest things^ 
Who shut their coward gates on atomies, — 
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers ] 
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; 
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill 

thee j 
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down ; 
Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, 
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : 
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, 
The cicatrice and capable impressure 
Thy palm some moment keeps, but now mine eyes^ 
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, 
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
That can do hurt. 

Sil. O dear Phebe, 

If ever (as that ever may be near) 
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy ,^ 



Scenes.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 103 

Then shall you know the wounds invisible 
That love's keen arrows make. 

Phe. But till that time 

Come not thou near me : and when that time 

comes, 
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not, 
As till that time I shall not pity thee. 

Ros. [Coming forward.] And why, I pray you ? 
Who might be your mother. 
That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
Over the wretched 1 What though you have no 

beauty 
(As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
Than without candle may go dark to bed) 
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 
Why, what means this 1 Why do you look on 

me 1 
I see no more in you, than in the ordinary 
Of nature's sale- work — Od 's my little life ! 
I think she means to tangle my eyes too. 
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it : 
'T is not your inky brows, your black silk hair, 
Your bugle eye-ba,lls, nor your cheek of cream. 
That can entame my spirits to your worship. — 
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain 1 
You are a thousand times a properer man, 



104 AS YOU" LIKE IT. [Act III. 

Than she a woman : 't is such fools as you 
That make the world full of ill-favoured children. 
*T is not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
And out of you she sees herself more proper 
Than any of her lineaments can show her. 
But, mistress, know yourself : down on your 

knees, 
And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's 

love ; 
For I must tell you friendly in your ear, — 
Sell when you can : you are not for all markets. 
Cry the man mercy ; love him ; take his offer : 
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. — 
So, take her to thee, shepherd. — Fare you well. 
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- 
gether. 
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. 

Bos. He 's fallen in love with your foulness, and 
she '11 fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as 
fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I '11 
sauce her with bitter words. — Why look you so 
upon me ? 

Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 
Pos. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
For I am falser than vows made in wine : 
Besides, I like you not. — If you will know my 
house, 



Scene 5."! AS TOTT LIKE IT. 105 

'T is at the tuft of olives, here hard by. — ' 

Will you go, sister 1 — Shepherd, ply her hard. — 
Come, sister. — Shepherdess, look on him better, 
And be not proud : though all the world could see, 
None could be so abused in sight as he. 
Come, to our flock. 

[Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. 

Fhe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of 
might. 
' Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight ? ' 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, — 

Fhe. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius f 

JSil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 

Fhe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 

iSil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be : 
If you do sorrow ^t my grief in love, 
By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
Were both extermined. 

Fhe. Thou hast my love : is not that neigh- 
bourly 1 

Sil. I would have you. 

Fhe. Why, that were covetousness. 

Silvius, the time was tha,o I hated thee, 
And yet it is not that I bear thee love ; 
But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
" Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
I will endure, and I '11 employ thee too ; 



106 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act IIL 

But do not look for further recompense 

Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. 

SiL So holy, and so perfect is my love. 
And I in such a pov^erty of grace, 
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man 
That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon. 

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me 
erewhile "? 

Sil. Not very well ; but I have met him oft ; 
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds 
That the old Carlot once was master of. 

Fhe. Think not I love him, though I ask for 
him. 
'Tis but a peevish boy : — yet he talks well : — 
But what care I for words 1 yet words do well, 
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
It is a pretty youth : — not very pretty : — 
But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes 

him. 
He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him 
Is his complexion : and faster than his tongue 
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not very tall ; yet for his years he 's tall. 
His leg is but so so ; and yet 't is well. 
There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 



Scene 5. J AS YOXJ LIKE IT. K 

A little riper, and more lusty red 
Than that mixed in his cheek : 't was just the dif- 
ference 
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked 

him 
In parcels, as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him ; but, for my part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not ; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
He said, mine eyes were black,- and my hair black; 
And, now I am remembered, scorned at me. \ 

I marvel why I answered not again : 
But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
I'll write to him a very taunting letter. 
And thou shalt bear it ; wilt thou, Silvius 1 

Sil Phebe, with aU my heart. 

Phe. I'll write it straight ; 

The matter 's in my head, and in my heart : 
I will be bitter with him and passing short. 
Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt. 



108 AS YOU LIKE IT. 

ACT IV. 

Scene I. — The Forest of Arden. 
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques. 

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be bettei 
acquainted with thee. 

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 

Jaq. I am so : I do love it better than laughing. 

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are 
abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every 
modern censure worse than drunkards. 

Jaq. Why, 't is good to be sad and say nothing. 

Ros. Why then, 't is good to be a post. 

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 
which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is 
fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; 
nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the 
lawyer's, which is politic ; nor- the lady's, which is 
nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these ; but it is 
a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many 
simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, 
the sundry contemplation of my travels; which, 
by often rumination, wraps me in a most humour- 
ous sadness. 

Ros. A traveller 1 By my faith, you have great 
reason to be sad. I fear, you have sold your 



Scene 1.] AS TOTJ LIKE IT. lOP , 

own lands, to see other men's ; then, to have se^ 
much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eje^ 
and poor hands. 

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 

Jio8. And your experience makes you sad. I 

had rather have a fool to make me' merry, than 

experience to make me sad ; and to travel for it, 

too ! 

Enter Oelando. 

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind. 

Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in 
blank verse. 

Eos. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you 
lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable all the benefits 
of your own country ; be out of love with your 
nativity ; and almost chide God for making you 
that countenance you are : or I will scarce think 
you have swam in a gondola. [Exit JaquesJ\ 
Why, how now, Orlando ! where have you been 
all this while % You a lover 1 — An you serve me 
such another trick, never come in my sight more. 

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of 
my promia©. 

Bos. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that 
will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and 
break but a part of the thousandth part of a 
minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him 



110 AS TOTJ LIKE IT. [Act lY. 

\ 

at Oupid hath clapped him o* the shoulder, but 
^ 'II warrant him heart-whole. 

Orl. Pardon me_, dear Rosalind. 

Hos. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more im 
my sight : I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. 

Orl Of a snail 1 

Bos. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, 
he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure, 
I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he 
brings his destiny with him. 

Orl. What's that % 

Ros. Why, horns ', which such as you are fain to 
be beholding to your wives for : but he comes armed 
in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his 
wife. 

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker, and my Kosalind 
is virtuous. 

Bos. And I am your E-osalind. 

Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath 
a Kosalind of a better leer than you. 

Bos. Come, woo me, woo me ; for now I am in 
a holiday humour, and like enough to consent. — 
What would you say to me now, an I were yoiir 
very very Rosalind ? 

Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. 

Bos. Nay, you were better speak first j and 
when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you 



Scene 1.] AS YOU LIKE IT 111 

might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, 
when they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers, 
lacking (God warn us) matter, the cleanliest shift 
is to kiss. 

Orl. How if the kiss be denied 1 

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
begins new matter. 

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved 
mistress ? 

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your 
mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker 
than my wit. 

Orl. What, of my suit % 

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of 
your suit. Am not I your Rosalind 1 

Orl I take some joy to say you are, because I 
would be talking of her. 

Ros. Well, in her person, I say — I will not have 
you. 

Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. 

Ros. No, 'faith, die by attorney. The poor 
world is almost six thousand years old, and in all 
this time there was not any man died in his own 
person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his 
brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he "did 
what he could to die before, and he is one of the 
patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived 



112 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act IV. 

many a fair year though Hero had turned nun, if 
it had not been for a hot mid-summer-night ; for, 
good youth, he went but forth to wash him in 
the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, 
was drowned, and the foolish chroniclers of that 
age found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are 
all lies : men have died from time to time, and 
worms have eaten them, but not for love. 

Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this 
mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. 

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But 
come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more 
coming-on disposition ; and ask me what you will, 
I will grant it. 

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 

Ros. Yes, 'faith will I ; Fridays, and Saturdays, 
and all. 

Orl. And wilt thou have me ? 

Ros. A.J, and twenty such. 

Orl What say'st thou ? 

Ros. Are you not good ? 

Orl. I hope so. 

Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a 
good thing ? — Come, sister, you shall be the priest, 
and marry us. — Give me your hand, Orlando. — 
What do you say, sister ? 

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 



Scene 1.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 113 

Cel. I cannot say the words. 

^os. You must begin, — 'Will you, Orlando,' — 

Cel. Go to. — Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
this Rosalind % 

Orl. I will. 

Ros. Ay, but when ? 

Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marry us. 

Ros. Then you must say, — ' I take thee, Rosa- 
lind, for wife.' 

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 

Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but, 
— I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : — 
there's a girl goes before the priest ; and certainly, 
a woman's thought runs before her actions. 

Orl, So do all thoughts : they are winged. 

Ros. Kow tell me how long you would have her, 
after you have possessed her. 

Orl. For ever, and a day. 

Ros. Say a day, without , the ever. No, no, 
Orlando : men are April when they woo, December 
when they wed ; maids are May when they are 
maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. 
I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary 
cock-pigeon over his hen ; more clamorous than a 
parrot against rain ; more new-fangled than an 
ape ; more giddy in my desires than a monkey : I 
will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, 



114 AS YOU LIKE IT. f^ct IV. 

and I will do that when you are disposed to be 
merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when 
thou art inclined to sleep. 

Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ? 

Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. 

Orl. 0, but she is wise. 

Ros. Or els6 she could not have the wit to do 
this : the wiser, the way warder. Make the doors 
upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the case- 
ment j shut that, and 't will out at the key-hole ; 
stop that, and 't will fly with the smoke out of the 
chimney. ' 

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he 
might say, — ' Wit, whither wilt 1 ' 

Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, 
till you met your wife's wit going to your neigh- 
bour's bed. 

Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse 
that •? 

Ros. Marry, to say, — she came to seek you there. 
You shall never take her without her answer, 
unless you take her without her tongue : O, that 
woman that cannot make her fault her husband's 
occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for 
she will breed it like a fool. 

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
thee. 



Scene l.J AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 115 

Bos. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two 
hours. 

Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner : by two 
o'clock I will be with thee again. 

Bos. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. — ^I knew 
what you would prove ; my friends told me as 
much, and I thought no less : — that flattering 
tongue of yours won me : — 't is but one cast away, 
and so, — come, death ! — Two o'clock is your 
hour ? 

Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 

Bos. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 
God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are 
not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, 
or come one minute behind your hour, I will think 
yon the most pathetical break-promise, and the 
most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her 
you call Kosalind, that may be chosen out of the 
gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore, beware 
my censure, and keep your promise. 

Orl, With no less religion^ than if thou wert in- 
deed my Rosalind : so, adieu. 

Bos. Well, Time is the old justice that examines 
aU such offenders, and let Time try. Adieu. 

[Bxit Orlando. 

Gel. You have simply misused our sex in your 
love-prate. We must have your doublet and hose 



116 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act IV. 

plucked over your head, and show the world what 
the bird hath done to her own nest. 

Ros. O, coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in 
love ! But I cannot be sounded : my affection 
hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 

Cel. Or, rather, bottomless ; that as fast as you 
pour your affection in, it runs out. 

Bos. No ; that same wicked bastard of Venus, 
that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and 
born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses 
every one's eyes because his own are out, let him 
be judge how deep I am in love. — I'll tell thee, 
Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. 
I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. 

Gel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter Jaques and Lords^ like foresters. 

Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 

1 Lord. Sir, it was I. 

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a 
Roman conqueror ; and it would do well to set the 
deer's horns upon his head for a branch of victory. 
Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? 



Scenes.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 117 

2 Lord, Yes, sir. 

Jaq^, Sing it : 't is no matter how it be in tune, so 
it make noise enough. 

Song. 
What shall he have, that killed the deer f 
Mis leather skin and horns to wear. 
Then sing him home. 
\The rest shall hear this burden/] 
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn. 
It was a crest ere thou wast horn. 
Thy father's father wore it, 
And thy father hore it: 
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, 
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. 

[ExeurU. 



Scene III. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter E-osalind and Celia. 
Ros. How say you now % Is it not past two 
o'clock 1 and here much Orlando ! 

Gel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled 
brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone 
forth — to sleep. Look, who comes here % 

Enter Silvius. 
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth. — 



118 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act IV. 

My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 

[Giving a letter. 
I know not the contents ; but, as I guess 
By the stern brow and waspish action 
Which she did use as she was writing of it, 
It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me, 
I am but as a guiltless messenger. 

Ros, Patience herself would startle at this let- 
ter, 
And play the swaggerer : bear this, bear all. 
She says, I am not fair ; that I lack manners ; 
She calls me proud, and that she could not love 

me, 
Were man as rare as phoenix. Od 's my will ! 
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : 
Why writes she so to me 1 — Well, shepherd, well • 
This is a letter of your own device. 

Sil. No, I protest ; I know not the contents : 
Phebe did write it. 

Ros. Come, come, you are a fool. 

And turned into the extremity of love. 
I saw her hand ; she has a leathern hand, 
A freestone-coloured hand ; I verily did think 
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands ; 
She has a housewife's hand ; but that's no matter. 
I say, she never did invent this letter ; 
This is a man's invention, and his hand. 



Scene 3.J AS YOU LIKE IT. 119 

Sil. Sure, it is hers. 

Hos. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
A style for challengers : why, she defies me, 
Like Turk to Christian. Woman's gentle brain 
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect 
Than in their countenance. — Will you hear the 
letter 1 
Sil. So please you ; for I never heard it yet. 
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. 

Jios. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant 
writes. 
' Art thou god to shepherd turned. 
That a maiden's heart hath burned ? '- — 
Can a woman rail thus 1 
Sil. Call you this railing 1 
Eos. ' Why, thy godhead laid apart, 

Warr'st thou with a woman's heart 1 ' 
Did you ever hear such railing"? — 

' Whiles the eye of man did woo me. 
That could do no vengeance to me.' 
Meaning me a beast. — 

* If the scorn of your bright eyne 
Have power to raise such love in mine, 
Alack, in me what strange effect 
Would they work in mild aspect 1 
Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 



120 AS YOU LIKE IT, [Act IT. 

How then might your prayers move t 
He that brings this love to thee 
Little knows this love in me : 
And by him seal up thy mind, 
Whether that thy youth and kind 
Will the faithful offer take 
Of me, and all that I can make ; 
Or else by him my love deny, 
And then I'll study how to die.' 
Sil Call you this chiding 1 
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd ! 

Kos. Do you pity him ? no ; he deserves no pity. 
Wilt thou love such a woman"? — What, to make 
thee an instrument, and play false strains upon 
thee % not to be endured ! Well, go your way to 
her, (for, I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) 
and say this to her : — that if she love me, I charge 
her to love thee ; if she will not, I will never have 
her, unless thou entreat for her. — If you be a true 
lover, hence, and not a word, for here comes more 
company. [Exit Silvius. 

Enter Oliver. 

Oli. Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you 
know, 
Where in the purlieu^" of this forest stands 
A sheepcote fenced about with olive-trees 1 



Scenes.! AS YOU LIKE IT. 121 

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour 
bottom : 
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream, 
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place. 
But at this hour the house doth keep itself ; 
There's none within. 

Oli. Tf that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
Then should I know you by description ; 
Such garments, and such years : — ' The boy is fair, 
Of female favour, and bestows himself 
Like a ripe sister : but the woman low. 
And browner than her brother.' Are not you 
The owners of the house I did inquire for % 

Cel. It is no boast, being asked, to say, -we are. 

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both ; 
And to that youth he calls his Kosalind, 
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ? 

Ros. I am. What must we understand by this li 

Oli. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me 
What man I am, and how, and why, and where 
This handkercher was stained. 

Gel. I pray you, tell it. 

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from 
you. 
He left a promise to return again 
Within an hour ; and, pacing through the forest, 
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 



122 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act IT. 

Lo, what befell ! he threw his eye aside, 
And, mark, what object did present itself : 
Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with 

age, 
And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
A wretched, ragged man, o'ergrown with hair. 
Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck 
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself. 
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached 
The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly, 
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, 
And with indented glides did slip away 
Into a bush ; under which bush's shade 
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch. 
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 't is 
The royal disposition of that beast 
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 
This seen, Orlando did approach the man. 
And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same 
brother ; 
And he did render him the most unnatural 
That lived 'mongst men. 

Oil. And well he might so do, 

For well I know he was unnatural. 

Ros. But, to Orlando. — Did he leave him there, 



Scene 3.J AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 123 

Food to the sucked and hungry lioness ? 

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed 
so; 
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
Made him give battle to the lioness. 
Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling 
From miserable slumber I awaked. 

Cel. Are you his brother ? 

Bos. Was it you he rescued 1 

Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
him % 

OIL 'Twas I ; but 't is not I. I do not shame 
To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin 1 

Oli. By-and-by 

When from the first to last, betwixt us two. 
Tears our recount ments had most kindly bathed, 
As, how I came into that desert place : — 
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke. 
Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment. 
Committing me unto my brother's love ; 
Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
There stripped himself ; and here, upon his arm, 
The lioness had torn some flesh away, 
Which all this while had bled : and now he fainted 



124 AS TOir LIKE IT. [Act IV. 

And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound ; 
And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
He sent me hither, stranger as I am. 
To tell this story, that you might excuse 
His broken promise ; and to give this napkin, 
Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth 
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 

[Rosalind swoons. 

Gel. Why, how now, Ganymede % sweet Gany- 
mede ! 

on. Many will swoon when they do look on 
blood. 

Gel. There is more in it. — Cousin ! — Ixanymede ! 

01%. Look, he recovers. 

Ros. I would I were at home. 

Gel. We'll lead you thither.— 

I pray you, will you take him by the arm % 

Oli. Be of good cheer, youth. — You a man? 
You lack <a man's heart. 

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body 
would think this was well counterfeited. I pray 
you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. — 
Heigh-ho ! — 

Oli. This was not counterfeit : there is too great 
testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion 
of earnest. 



Scene 1.] AS YOTT LIKE IT. 125 

JRos. Counterfeit, I assure you. 

on. Well then, take a good heart, and counter- 
feit to be a man. 

Bos. So I do ; but, i' faith, I should have been a 
woman by right. 

Cel. Come ; you look paler and paler : pray you, 
draw homewards. — Good sir, go with us. 

on. That will I, for I must bear answer back, 
How you excuse my brother, Kosalind. 

Jios. I shall devise something. But, I pray you, 
commend my counterfeiting to him. — Will you gol 

\Exeunt. 

ACT Y. 

Scene I. — The Forest of Arden. 
Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey : patience, 
gentle Audrey. 

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all 
the old gentleman's saying. 

Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey ; a 
most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth 
here in the forest lays claim to you. 

Aud. Aj, I know who 'tis : he hath no interest 
in me in the world. Here comes the man you 
mean. 



126 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act V. 

Enter William. 

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a. 
clown. By my troth, we that have good wits 
have much to answer for : we shall be flouting ; we 
cannot hold. 

Will. Good even, Audrey. 

Aud. God ye good even, William. 

Will. And good even to you, sir. 

Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy 
head, cover thy head, nay, pr'ythee, be covered. 
How old are you, friend 1 

Will. Five-and-twenty, sir. 

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William 1 

Will. William, sir. 

Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest 
here % 

Will. Aj, sir, I thank God. 

Touch. Thank God ; — a good answer. Art rich 1 

Will. 'Faith, sir, so, so. 

Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent 
good : and yet it is not ; it is but so, so. Art thou 
wise 1 

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now re- 
member a saying, ' The fool doth think he is wise, 
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The 



Scene 1.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 127 

heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a 
grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 
mouth, meaning thereby, that grapes were made to 
eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid 1 

Will. I do, sir. 

Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned 1 

Will. No, sir. 

Touch. Then learn this of me. To have, is to 
have; for it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, 
being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling 
the one doth empty the other ; for all your writers 
do consent, that ipse is he : now, you are not ipse, 
for I am he. 

Will. Which he, sir? 

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 
Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the 
vulgar, leave, — the society, — which in the boorish 
is, company, — of this female, which in the common 
is, woman ; which together is, abandon the society 
of this female, or, clown, thou perishest ; or, to thy 
better understanding, diest ; or, to wit, I kill thee, 
make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy 
liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with 
thee, or in bastinado, or in steel : I will bandy 
with thee in faction ; I Avill o'errun thee with 
policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways : 
therefore tremble, and depart. 



128 AS YOir LIKE IT. [Act V. 

Aud. Do, good William. 

Will. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit. 

Enter Corin. 

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you : come, 
away, away ! 

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. — I attend, 
1 attend. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter Orlando and Oliver. 

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance 
you should like her? that, but seeing, you should 
love her? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she 
should grant 1 and will you persevere to enjoy her? 

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my 
sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but 
say with me, I love Aliena ; say with her, that she 
loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy 
each other : it shall be to your good ; for my 
father's house, and all the revenue that was old 
Sir Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here 
live and die a shepherd. 

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding 
be to-morrow : thither will I invite the duke, and 



Scene 2.J AS TOTJ LIKE IT. 12^ 

all his contented followers. Go you, and prepare 
Aliena ; for, look yon, here comes my Rosalind. 

Enter Rosalind. 

Ros. God save yoii, brother. 

OIL And you, fair sister. \^ExiL 

Bos. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to 
see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.^ 

Orl. It is my arm. 

Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with 
the claws of a lion. 

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
feited to swoon, when he showed me your handker- 
cher It 

Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 

Ros. O, I know where you are. — Nay, 'tis true : 
there was never anything so sudden, but the fight 
of two rams, and Caesar's thrasonical brag of — ' I 
came, saw, and overcame : ' for your brother and 
my sister no sooner met, but they looked ; no 
sooner looked, but they loved ; no sooner loved, 
but they sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked 
one another the reason ; no sooner knew the reason, 
but they sought the remedy : and in these degrees 
have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which 

they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent 

E— 50 



130 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act V. 

l)efore marriage. They are in the very wrath of 
love, and they will together : clubs cannot part 
them. 

07'1. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will 
bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a 
thing it is to look into happiness through another 
man's eyes ! By so much tlie uiore shall I to- 
morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how 
much I shall think my brother happy in having 
what he wishes for. 

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your 
turn for Rosalind % 

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 

Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle 
talking. Know of me then (for now I speak to 
some purpose), that I know you are a gentleman of 
good conceit. I speak not this, that you should 
bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I 
say, I know you are ; neither do I labour for a 
greater esteem than may in some little measure 
draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and 
not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that 
I can do strange things. I have, since I was three 
years old, conversed with a magician, most profound 
in his art, and yet not damnable. If you do 
love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture 
cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, 



Scene 2.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 131 

shall yon marry her. I know into what straits of 
fortune she is dris^en ; and it is not impossible to 
me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her 
before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, ana. 
without any danger. 

Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meaning 1 
Bos. By my life, I do ; which I tender dearly, 
though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put 
you in your best array, bid your friends, for if you 
will be married to-morrow, you shall ; and to 
Hosalind, if you will. Look, here comes a lover 
of mine, and a lover of hers. 

Enter Silvius and Phebe. 

Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- 
ness. 
To show the letter that I writ to you. 

Bos. I care not, if I have : it is my study 
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. 
You are there followed by a faithful shepherd : 
Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 

Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth wdiat 't is to 
love. 

Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; — 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe. And I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And I for Rosalind. 



132 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Aot V. 

Bos. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service ; — 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe. And I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And I for Rosalind. 

Ros. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, 
All made of passion, and all made of wishes ; 
All adoration, duty, and observance ; 
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience ; 
All purity, all trial, all observance ; — 
And so am I for Pliebe. 

Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 

Ros. And so am I for no woman. 

Phe. [To Rosalind.] If this be so, why blame 
you me to love you 1 

Sil. [To Phebe.] If this be so, why blame you 
me to love you ? 

Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
you*? 

Ros. Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you 
me to love you 1 ' 

Orl. To her, that is not here, nor doth not 
hear. 

Ros. Pray you, no more of this : 't is like the 
howling of Irish wolves against the moon. — ['To 



Scene 3.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 133 

SiLVius.] I will help you, if I can : — [To Phebe.] 
I would love you, if I could. — To-morrow meet me 
all together. — [To Phebe.] I will marry you, if 
ever I marry woman, and I '11 be married to- 
morrow : — [To Orlando.] I will satisfy you, if 
ever T satisfied man, aiid you shall b'e married to- 
morrow ; — [To SiLVius.] I will content you, if 
what pleases you contents you, and you shall be 
married to-morrow. — [To Orlando.] As you love 
Bosalind, meet : — [To SiLVius.] As you love 
Phebe, meet : and as I love no woman, I '11 meet. 
— So, fare you well : I have left you commands. 

Sil I '11 not fail, if I live. 

Phe. Nor I. 

Orl. Nor L [Bxeunt. 



Scene III. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Unter Touchstone and Audrey. 

Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey : 
to-morrow will we be married. 

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart, and I 
hope it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a 
woman of the world. Here come two of the 
banished duke's pages. 



134 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act V. 

Enter Two Pages. 

1 Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 

Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, 
and a song. 

2 Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. 

1 Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, without 
hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, 
which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? 

2 Page. I' faith, i' faith ; and both in a tune, 
like two gipsies on a horse. 

Song. 

It was a lover, and his lass, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
That o^er the green corn-field did pass, 

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time^ 
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

And therefore take the present time. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

For love is crowned with the prime 
In the spring time, &g. 

Betimen the acres of the rye. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino^ 



Scene 4.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 135 

These pretty country folks would lie. 
In the spring tim,e, &c. 

This carol they began that hour, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
How that a life was hut a flower 

In the spring time, ^c. 

Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
very untuneable. 

1 Page. You are deceived, sir : we kept time , 
we lost not our time. 

Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time 
lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you ; 
and God mend your voices. Come, Audrey. 

\_Exeunt.^ 



Scene lY. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando,,. 
Oliver, and Celia. 

Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando that the 

Can do all this that he hath promised 1 

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do 



136 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. [Act V 

As those that fear thej hope, and know they 
:lear. 

Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. 

I^os. Patience once more, whiles our compact is 

urged. — 
[To the Duke.] You say, if I bring in your Rosa- 
lind, 
You will bestow her on Orlando here ? 

Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give 

with her. 
Mos. \_To Orlando.] And you say, you will 

have her, when I bring her ? , 
Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms 

king. 
Jios. [To Phebe.] You say, you '11 marry me, if 

I be willing *? 
The. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
Eos. But if you do refuse to marry me. 
You'll give yourself to this most faithful 

shepherd ? 
Fhe. So is the bargain. 
Mos. [To Silvius.] You say that you '11 have 

Phebe, if she will 1 
SiL Though to have her and death were both 

one thing. 
JSos. I have promised to make all this matter 

even. 



Scene 4.1 AS YOU LIKE IT. 1ST 

Keep you your word, duke, to give your 

daughter ; — 
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter j — 
Keep you your word, Phebe, that you '11 marry 

me, 
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd ; — 
Keep your word, Silvius, that you 11 marry her. 
If she refuse me : — and from hence I go. 
To make these doubts all even. 

[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy 
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. 

Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw 

him, 
Methought he was a brother to your daughter ; 
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 
And hath been tutored in the rudiments 
Of many desperate studies by his uncle. 
Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
Obscured in the circle of this forest. 

Taq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and 
these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes 
a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues 
are called fools. 

Bnter Touchstone and Audrey. 
Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all. 



138 AS YOU LIKE IT. L^ct V. 

Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is 
the motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often 
met in the forest : he hath been a courtier, he 
swears. 

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him j)ut me 
to my purgation. I have trod a measure ; I have 
flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my 
friend, smooth with mine enemy ; I have undone 
three tailors \ I have had four quarrels, an:l like 
to have fought one. 

Jaq^. And how was that ta'en up? 

Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel 
was upon the seventh cause. 

JoAi. How seventh cause*? Good my lord, like 
this fellow. 

Duke S. I like him very well. 

Touch. God ild you, sir ; I desire you of the 
like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the 
country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear, ac- 
cording as marriage binds, and blood breaks. — A 
poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine 
own : a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that no 
man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, 
sir, in a poor Iiouse, as your pearl in your foul 
oyster. 

Duhe S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 
tentious. 



Scene 4. j AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 139 

Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such 
dulcet diseases. 

Jaq. But, for the seventh cause, how did you 
find the quarrel on the seventh cause 1 

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed. — Bear 
your body more seeming, Audrey. — As thus, Sir. 
I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard : 
he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut 
well, he was in the mind it was : this is called the 
' Retort Courteous.' If I sent him M^ord again It 
was not well cut, he would send me word he cut it 
to please himself : this is called the ' Quip Modest.' 
If again It was not well cut, he disabled my judg- 
ment : this is called the ' Reply Churlish.' If 
again It was not well cut, he would answer, I 
spake not true : this is called the ' Reproof 
Valiant.' If again It was not well cut, he would 
say, I lie : this is called the ' Countercheck Quarrel- 
some : ' and so to the ' Lie Circumstantial,' and the 
' Lie Direct.' ■ 

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was 
not well cut 1 

Touch. I durst go no further than the ' Lie Cir- 
cumstsmtial,* nor he durst not give me the ' Lie 
Direct ; ' and so we measured swords, and parted. 

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees 
of the lie? 



140 AS YOir LIKE IT. [ActV. 

Touch. sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; 
as you have books for good manners : I will name 
you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous ; 
the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply 
churlish ; the fourth, the reproof valiant ; the fifth, 
the countercheck quarrelsome ; the sixth, the lie 
with circumstance ; the seventh, the lie direct. 
All these you may avoid, but the lie direct, and 
you may avoid that too, with an if. I knew when 
seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but 
when the parties were met themselves, one of them 
thought but of an if 2,'s, if you said so, then I said 
so ; and they shook hands and swore brothers. 
Your if is the only peace-maker ; much virtue in if. 

Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord 1 he's as 
good at anything, and yet a fool. 

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, 
and under the presentation of that, he shoots his 
wit. 

Enter Hymen leading Kosalind *7j woman^s clothes, 
and Celia. 

Still Music. 

Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven^ 
When earthly things made even 

Atone together. 
Good dttke, receive thy daughter^ 



Scene 4. AS YOU LIKE IT. 141 

Hymen from heaven brought her^ 

Yea, brought her hither, 
That thou mightst join her hand with his 
Whose heart within her bosom is. 

Bo8. [To Duke *S'.] To you I give myself, for I 
am yours. 
[To Orlando.] To you I give myself, for I am 
yours. 
Duhe S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 

daughter. 
Orl If there be truth in sight, you are my 

Rosalind. 
Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
Why then, my love adieu ! 
Bos. [To Duke S.] I '11 have no father, u you 
be not he : — 
[To Orlando.] I '11 have no husband, if you be 

not he : — 
[To Phebe.] Nor ne'er w«d woman, if you be not 

.she. 
Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion. 
'T is I must make conclusion 

Of these most strange events : 
Here 's eight that must take hands, 
To join in Hymen's bands, 
If truth holds true contents. 



142 AS TOT7 LIKE IT. [Act V. 

[To Orlando and Eosalind.] You and you 

no cross shall part : 
[To Oliver and Celia.] You and you are 

heart in heart : 
[To Phebe.] You to his love must accord, 
Or have a woman to your lord : 
[To Touchstone and Audrey.] You and 

you are sure together, 
As the winter to foul weather. 
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing 
Feed yourselves with questioning, 
That reason wonder may diminish 
How thus we met, and these things finish. 

Song. 
Wedding is great Juno's crown : 

blessed bond of board and bed / 
'Tis Hymen peoples every town; 

High wedlock then be honoured. 
Honour, high honour, and renown, 
To Hymen, god of every town I 

Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to 
me : 
Even daughter welcome in no less degree. 

Phe. [To SiLVius.] I will not eat my word, now 
thou art mine ; 
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 



Scenes] AS YOU LIKE IT. 143 

Enter Jaques de Bois. 

Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or 
two. 
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, 
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. — • 
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 
Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 
Addressed a mighty power, which were oa 

foot 
In his own conduct, purposely to take 
His brother here, and put him to the sword. 
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came. 
Where, meeting with an old religious man. 
After some question with him, was converted 
Both from his enterprise and from the world ; 
His crown bequeathing to his banished brother 
And all their lands restored to them again 
That were with him exiled. This to be true 
I do engage my life. 

Duke S. Welcome, young man ; 

Thou offer' st fairly to thy brothers' wedding : 
To one, his lands withheld ; ai)d to the other, 
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
First, in this forest, let us do those ends 
That here were well begun, and well begot : 
And after, every of this happy number 



144 AS YOU LIKE IT. [Act V. 

That have endured shrewd days and nights with 

us 
Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
According to the measure of their states. 
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, 
And fall into our rustic revelry, — 
Play, music ! and you brides and bridegrooms all, 
With measure heaped in joy, to the measures fall. 
Jaq. Sir, by your patience. — If I heard you 

rightly, 
The duke hath put on a religious life. 
And thrown into neglect the pompous court ! 
Jaq. de B, He hath. 

Jaq. To him will I : out of these convertites 
There is much matter to be heard and learned. — 
[To Duke S.~\ You to your former honour I 

bequeath ; 
Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves 

it :— 
[To Orlando.] You to a love, that your true faith 

doth merit : — 
[To Oliver.] You to your land, and love, and 

great allies : — 
'\_To SiLVius.] You to a long and well-deserved 

bed : — 
\To Touchstone.] And you to wrangling ; for th_y 

loving voyage 



SSceue l.J AS YOU LIKE IT. 145 

Is but for two months victualled. — ?o, to your 

pleasures : 
I am for other than for dancing measures. 
Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 
Jaq. To see no pastime, I : — what you would 
have 
I '11 stay to know at your abandoned cave. [^Exit. 
Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these 
rites, 
As we do trust they 11 end, in true delights. 

\A dance. 



EPILOGUE. 

Eos. It is not the fashion to see the lady the 
epilogue ; but it is no more unhandsome than to 
see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good 
wine needs no bush, 't is true that a good play 
needs no epilogue; yet to good wine they do use 
good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the 
help of good epilogues. What a case aui I in then, 
that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot in- 
sinuate with you in the behalf of a good play 1 I 
am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg 
will not become me : my way is, to conjure you ; 
and I '11 begin with the women. I charge you, O 
women, for the love you bear to men, to like as 



146 AS YOTJ LIKE IT. 

nrncli of this play as please you : and I charge you, 

men, for the love you bear to women (as I per- 
ceive by your simpering, none of you hates them), 
that between you and the women, the play may 
please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many 
of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions 
that liked me, and breaths that I defied not ; and 

1 am sure, as many as have good beards, or good 
faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind offer, 
when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. 



i 



THE TALE OF' GAMELYN. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 



LiTHETH, and lesteneth • and herkeneth aright, 
And ye schulle here a talkyng • of a doughty knight; 
Sire lohan of Boundys • was his righte name, 
He cowde of norture ynough • and mochil of game. 
Thre sones the knight hadde • that with his body 

he wan ; 
The eldest was a moche schrewe * and sone he 

bygan. 
His bretheren loued wel here fader • and of him 

were agast, 
The eldest deserued his fadres curs • and had it at 

the last. 
The goode knight his fader * lyuede so yore, 
That deth was comen him to • and handled him ful 

sore. 
The goode knight cared sore • sik ther he lay, 
How his children scholde • lyuen after his day. 
He hadde ben wyde-wher * but non housbond he 

was, 
Al the lond that he hadde • it was verrey -purchas. 



150 THE TAIiE OF GAMELYN. 

Fayn he wolde it were • dressed among hem alle, 
That ech of hem hadde his part • as it mighte falle, 
Tho sente he in-to cuntre • after wise knightes, 
To helpe delen his londes ■ and dressen hem to- 

rightes. 
He sente hem word by lettres * they schulden hye 

blyue, 
Yf they wolde speke with him • whil he was on 

lyue. 
Tho the knyghtes herden • sik that he lay, 
Hadde they no reste • nother night ne day, 
Til they comen to him * ther he lay stille 
On his deth-bedde • to abyde goddes wille. 
Than seyde tlie goode knight • syk ther he lay, 
' Lordes, I you warne * for soth, withoute nay, 
I may no lenger lyuen • heer in this stounde : 
For thurgh goddes wille • deth draweth me to 

grounded 
Ther nas non of hem alle • that herde him aj?ight, 
That they ne hadden reuthe * of that ilke knight, 
And seyde, ' sir, for goddes loue • ne dismay you 

nought ; 
God may do bote of bale ' that is now i- wrought.' 

Than spak the goode knight • sik ther he lay, 
* Boote of bale god may sende * I wot it is no nay ; 
But I byseke you, knightes • for the loue of me, 
Goth and dresseth my lond • among my sones thre. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 151 

A-iid for the loue of god • deleth hem nat amys, 
And forgetith nat Gamelyn • my yonge sone that is. 
Taketh heed to that on * as wel as to that other ; 
Selde ye see ony eyr • helpen his brother. ' 

Tho lete they the kmght»lyen • that was nought 

in hele, 
And went in-to counseil ■ his landes for to dele ; 
For to delen hem alle • to oon, that was her thouo:ht» 
And for Gamelyn was youngest • he schulde haue 

nought. 
Al the lond that ther was • they dalten it in two, 
And leten Gamelyn the yonge • withoute londe go, 
And ecli of hem seyde • to other ful lowde, 
His bretheren might geue him lond * whan he good 

cowde. 
Whan they hadde deled * the lond at here wille, 
They comen to the knight • ther he lay ful stille, 
And tolden him anon • how they hadden wrought : 
And the knight ther he lay • liked it right nought. 
Than seyde the ^knight • ' by seynt Martyn, 
For al that ye haue y-doon • yit is the lond myn ; 
For goddes loue, neyhebours • stondeth alle stille, 
And I wil dele my lond * right after my wille. 
lohan, myn eldeste sone * schal haue plowes fyue, 
That was my fadres heritage • whil he was on lyue ; 
And my myddeleste sone • fyue plowes of lond, 
That I halp for to gete • with my righte hond; 



162 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

And al myn other purchas * of londes and of leedes, 
That I byquethe Gamelyn • and alle my goode 

steedes. 
And I byseke yow, goode men • that lawe conne of 

londe, • 

For Gamelyns loue • that my quest stonde. ' 
Thus dalte the knight * his lond by his day 
Right on his deth-bedde • sik ther he lay ; 
And sone aftirward • he lay stoon-stille, 
And deyde whan tyme com • as it was Cristes 

wille. 
Anon as he was deed * and vnder gras i-graue, 
Sone the elder brother • gyled the yonge knaue ; 
He took into his hond • his lond and his leede, 
And Gamelyn himselfe • to clotlien and to feede. 
He clothed him and fedde him • yuel and eek 

wrothe. 
And leet his londes for-fare . and his houses bothe, 
His parkes and his woodes * and dede nothing wel ] 
And seththen he it aboughte • on his faire fel. 
So longe was Gamelyn * in his brotheres halle, 
For the strengest, of good wil • they douteden him 

alle ; 
Ther was non ther-inne • nowther yong ne old, 
That wolde wraththe Gamelyn • were he neuer so 

bold. 
Ganielyn stood on a day • in his brotheres yerde, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 153 

And bygan with his hond • to handlen his berde; 
He thoughte on his londes * that layen vnsawe, 
And his faire okes • that down were i-drawe ; 
His parkes were i-broken • and his deer byreued ; 
Of alle his goode steedes • noon was him byleued ; 
His howses were vnhiled • and ful yuel dight; 
Tho thoughte Gamelyn • it wentel .ought aright. 
Afterward cam his brother • walkynge thare, 
And seyde to Gamelyn • 'is our mete yare"? ' 
Tho wraththed him Gamelyn • and swor by goddes 

book, 
' Thou schalt go bake thi-self * I wil nought be thy 

cook ! ' 
' How 1 brother Gamelyn • how answerest thou 

now ? 
Thou spake neuer such a word ' as thou dost now.' 
' By my faith, ' seyde Gamelyn • ' now me thinketh 

neede, 
Of alle the harmes that I haue * I tok neuer ar 

heede. 
My parkes ben to-broken ' and my deer byreued, 
Of myn armure and my steedes • nought is me 

bileued ; 
Al that my fader me byquath • al goth to schame, 
And therfor haue thou goddes curs * brother by thy 

name ! ' 
Than byspak his brother • that rape was of rees, 



154 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

' Stond stille, gadelyng • and hold right thy pees; 
Thou schalt be fayn for to haue • thy mete and thy 

wede ; 
What spekest thou, Gamely n • of lond other of 

leeder 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • the child that was ying, 

* Cristes curs mot he haue * that clepeth me gade- 

lyng ! 
I am no worse gadelyng • ne no worse wight, 
But born of a lady * and geten of a knight. * 
Ne durste he nat to Gamelyn ' ner a-foote go, 
But clepide to him his men • and seyde to them 

tho, 

* Goth and beteth this boy • and reueth him his 

wyt, 
And lat him lerne another tyme • to answere m& 

bet.' 
Thanne seyde the child • yonge Gamelyn, 

* Cristes curs mot thou haue • brother art thou 

myn ! 
And if I schal algate • be beten anon, 
Cristes curs mot thou haue • but thou be that oon I 
And anon his brother • in that grete hete 
Made his men to fette staues * Gamelyn to bete. 
Whan that euerich of hem • hadde a staf i-nome, 
Gamelyn was war anon • tho he seigli hem come ; 
Tho Gamelyn seyh hem come • he loked ouer-al, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 155 

And was war of a pesfcel • stood vnder a wal ; 
Gamelyn was light of foot • and thider gan he lepe, 
And drof alle his brotheres men • right sone on an 

hepe. 
He loked as a wilde lyoun • and leyde on good 

woon ; 
Tho his brother say that * he bigan to goon; 
He fley vp in-til a loft • and schette the dore fast ; 
Thus Gamelyn with his pestel • made hem alle 

agast. 
Some for Gamelyns loue * and some for his ejje, 
Alle they drowe hy halues • tho he gan to pleyye. 
* What ! how now 1 ' seyde Gamelyn • euel mot ye 

thee ! 
Wil ye bygynne contek • and sone flee ? ' 
Gamelyn soughte his brother • whider ne was 

fl.owe, 
And saugh wher he loked • out at a wyndowe. 
' Brother, ' sayde Gamelyn • ' com a litel ner, 
And I wil teche the a play • atte bokeler. ' 
His brother him answerde • and swor by seynt 

Rycher, 
' Whil the pestel is in thin hond -I wil come no 

neer : 
Brother, I wil make thy pees • I swere by Cristes 

ore; 
Cast away the pestel • and wraththe the nomore.' 



156 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

* I mot neede, * sayde Gamelyn • * wraththe me at 

oones, 
For thou wolde make thy men • to breke myne 

boones, 
Ne hadde I had mayn • and might in myn armes, 
To haue i-put hem fro me • thei wolde haue do me 

harmes. ' 
' Gramelyn, ' sayde his brother • * be thou nought 

wroth, 

For to seen the haue harm • it were me right loth ; 

T ne dide it nought, brother * but for a fondyng, 

For to loken if thou were strong * and art so ying. 

' Com a-doun than to me • and graunte me my 

bone 

Of 00 thing I wil the aske * and we schul saughte 

sone. ' 
Doun than cam his brother . that fykil was and 

fel, 
And was swithe sore • agast of the pestel. 
He seyde, * Brother Gamelyn • aske me thy boone, 
And loke thou m.e blame • but I it graunte sone.* 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • * brother, i-wys, 
And we schuUe ben at oon • thou most me graunte 

this : 
Al that my fader me byquath * whil he was on 

lyue, 
Thou most do me it haue • gif we schul nat stryue.' 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 157 

' That schalt thou haue, Gamelyn • I swere by 

Cristes ore ! 
Al that thi fader the byquath • though thou woldest 

haue more ; 
Thy lond, that lyth laye • ful wel it schal be 

sowe, 
And thyii howses reysed vp • that ben leyd so 

lowe.' 
Thus seyde the knight • to Gamelyn with mowthe, 
And thoughte eek on falsnes • as he wel couthe. 
The knight thoughte on tresoun • and Gamelyn on 

noon, 
And wente and kiste his brother • and, whan they 

were at oon, 
Alias ! yonge Gamelyn • notliing he ne wiste 
With which a false tresoun • his bi-other him kiste! 
Litheth, and lesteneth • and holdeth your tonge, 
And ye schul heere talkyng • of Gamelyn the 

yonge. 
Ther was ther bysiden • cryed a wrastlyng, 
And therfor ther was set vp • a ram and a ryng ; 
And Gamelyn was ia wille * to wende therto. 
For to preuen his might • what he cowthe do. 
' Brother,' seyde Gamelyn • ' by seynt Richer, 
Thou most lene me to-nyght • a litel courser 
That is f reisch to the spores • on for to ryde ; 
I most on an erande • a litel her byside.' 



158 THE TALE OE GAMELYN. 

* By god ! ' seyde his brother • ^ of steedes in my 

stalle 
Go and chese the the best • and spare non of alle 
Of steedes or of coursers • that stonden hem bisyde ; 
And tel me, goode brother • whider thou wolt ryde/ 

' Her byside, brother • is cryed a wrastlyng, 
And therfor schal be set vp • a ram and a ryng ; 
Moche worschip it were • brother, to vs alle, 
Might I the ram and the ryng • bring home to this 

halle.' ' 
A steede ther was sadeled • smertely and skeet ; 
Gamelyn did a paire spores • fast on his feet. 
He sette his foot in the styrop • the steede he by- 

strood, , 

And toward the wrastelyng • the yonge child 

rood. 
Tho Gamelyn the yonge • was riden out at gat, 
The false knigt his brother • lokked it after that, 
And bysouhgte lesu Crist . that is heuen kyng, 
He mighte broke his nekke • in that wrastelyng. 
As sone as Gamelyn com • ther the place was, 
He lighte doun of his steede • and stood on the 

gras, 
And ther he herd a frankeleyn • wayloway synge, 
And bigan bitterly • his hondesfor to wrynge. 
^ Goode man,' seyde Gamelyn • 'why makestow this 

fare? 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 159 

Is ther no iiiau that may • you lielpe out of this 

care ! ' 
' Alias ! ' seyde this f rankeleyn * ' that euer was 1 

bore ! 
For tweye stalworthe sones • I wene that I haue 

lore ; 
A champioun is in the place • that hath i-wrouyt 

me sorwe. 
For he hath slayn my two sones • but-if god hem 

borwe. 
I wold yeue ten pound ' by lesu Crist ! and more, 
With the nones I fand a man • to handelen him 

sore.' 
* Goode man,' sayde Gamelyn • ' wilt thou wel 

doon, 
Hold myn hors, whil my man * draweth of my 

schoon, 
And help my man to kepe * my clothes and my 

steede, 
And I wil into place go * to loke if I may speede.* 
' By god ! ' sayde the frankeleyn * ' anon it schal be 

doon ; 
I wil my-self be thy man • and drawen of thy 

schoon, 
And wende thou into place * lesu Crist the speede, 
And drede not of thy clothes • nor of tliy goode 

steede,' 



160 THE TALE OF GAMELTN. 

Barfoofc and vngert • Gamelyn in cam, 
Alio that weren in the place • heede of him they 

nam, 
How he durste auntre him • of him to doon his 

might 
That was so doughty champioun • in wrastlyng 

and in fight. 
Vp ste: ce the champioun • rapely anoon, 
Toward yonge Gamelyn • he bigan to goon, 
And sayde, 'who is thy fader • and who is thy 

sire 1 
For sothe thou art a gret fool • that thou come 

hire ! ' 
Gamelyn answerde * the champioun tho, 
' Thou knew^e wel my fader • whil he couthe go, 
Whiles he was on lyue • by seint Martyn ! 
Sir lohan of Boundys was his name • and I Game- 
lyn.' 

* Felaw,' seyde the champioun • 'al-so mot I 

thryue, 
I knew wel thy fader • whil he was on lyue ; 
And thiself, Gamelyn • I wil that thou it heere, 
Whil thou were a yong boy • a moche schrewe 

thou were/ 
Than seyde Gamelyn • and swor by Cristes ore, 

* Now I am older woxe • thou schalt me fynde a 

more ! ' 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 161 

' Be god ! ' sayde the cliampioun * ' welcome mote 

thou be ! 
Come thou ones in myn hond • schalt thou neur 

the.' 
It was wel withinne the night • and the moone 

sohon, 
Whan Gamelyn and the charapioun • togider gonne 

goon. 
The champioun' caste tornes • to Gamelyn that was 

prest, 
And Gamelyn stood stille • and bad him doon his 

best. 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • to the champioun, 
' Thou art faste aboute • to brynge me adoun ; 
Now I haue i-proued * many tornes of thyne, 
Thow most,' he seyde, * prouen : on or tuo of 

myne.' 
Gamelyn to the champioun • gede smertely anon, 
Of all the tornes that he cowthe • he schewed him 

but oon, 
And kaste him on the lefte syde • that thre ribbes 

tobrak, 
And therto his oon arm • that gaf a gret crak. 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • smertely anoon, 

* Schal it be holde for a cast • or elles for noon ? ' 

* By god ! ' seyde the champioun • ' whether that it 

bee, 
F— 50 



162 THE TALE OF GAMBLYN. 

He that cometh ones in thin hand • schal he neuer 

thee ! ' 
Than seyde the f rankeleyn • that had his sones there, 

* Blessed be thou, Gamelyn * that euer thou bore 

were ! ' 
The frankeleyn seyde to the champioun • of him 

stood him noon eye, 
*This is yonge Gamelyn • that taughte the this 

pleye.' 
Agein answerd the champioun * that liked nothing 

wel, 

* He is our alther mayster • and his pley is right f el ; 
Sith I wrastled first • it is i-go ful yore. 

But I was lieuere in my lyf • handeled so sore.' 
Gamelyn stood in the place • allone withoute serk. 
And seyde, * if ther be eny mo * lat hem come to 

work j 
The champioun that peyned him • to werke so sore, 
It semeth by his continaunce • that he wil nomore.' 
Gamelyn in the place * stood as stille as stoon, 
For to abyde wrastelyng ■ but ther com noon ; 
Ther was noon with Gamelyn • wolde wrastle more. 
For he handled the champioun • so wonderly sore. 
Two gentil-men ther were • that yemede the place, 
Comen to Gamelyn • (god geue him goode grace !) 
And sayde to him, 'do on • thyn hoscn and thy 

schoon, 



THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 163 

For sothe at this tyme • this feire is i-doon.* 
And than seyde Gamelyn • ' so mot I wel fare, 
I haue nought yet haluendel • sold vp my ware.' 
Tho seyde the cliampioun • ' so brouke I my sweere, 
He is a fool that therof byeth • thou sellest it so 

deere.' 
Tho sayde the frankeleyn * that was in moche care, 
* Felaw,' he seyde • * why lakkest thou his ware 1 
By seynt lame in Galys • that many man hath 

sought, 
Yet it is to good cheep • that thou hast i-bought/ 
Tho that wardeynes were * of that wrastelyng 
Come and broughte Gamelyn • the ram and the 

ryng, 
And seyden, * haue, Gamelyn • the ryng and the ram, 
For the beste wrasteler • that euer here cam.' 
Thus wan Gamelyn • the ram and the ryng, 
And wente with moche ioye * home in the mornyng. 
His brother seih wher he cam • with the grete rowte, 
And bad schitte the gate • and holde him withoute. 
The porter of his lord • was ful sore agast, 
And sterfce anon to the gate * and lokked it fast. 

Now litheth, and lesteneth • bothe yonge and olde, 
And ye schul heere gamen • of Gamelyn the bolde. 
Gamelyn come therto • for to haue comen in, 
And thanne was it i-schet • faste with a pyn ; 
Than seyde Gamelyn • ' porter, vndo the gat, 



164 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

For many good mannes sone * stondeth therat.' 
Than answerd the porter • and swor bj goddesberde, 
' Thow ne schalt, Gamelyn • come into this yerde,' 
*Thow lixt,' sayde Gamelyn • 'so browke I my 

chyn ! ' 
He smot the wyket with his foot • and brak awey 

the pyn. 
The porter seyh tho • it might no better be, 
He sette foot on erthe * and bigan to flee. 

By my faith/ seyde Gamelyn • 'that trauail is i-lore^ 
For I am of foot as light as thou • though thou 

haddest swore.' 
Gamelyn ouertook the porter * and his teene wrak, 
And gerte him in the nekke • that the bon tobrak, 
And took him by that con arm • and threw him in a 

welle, 
Sen en f admen it was deep • as I haue herd telle. 
Whan Gamelyn the yonge • thus hadde pleyd his 

play, 

Alle that in the yerde were • drewen hem away ; 
They dredden him ful sore • for werkes that he 

wroughte, 
And for the faire company • that he thider broughte. 
Gamelyn gede to the gate • and leet it vp wyde ; 
He leet in alle maner men • that gon in wolde or 

ryde, 
And seyde, ' ye be welcome • withouten eny greeue^ 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 165 

For we wiln be maistres heer * and aske no man 

leue, 
Yestirday I lefte ' • seyed yonge Gamelyn, 
* In my brother seller • fyue tonne of wyn ; 
I wil not that this compaignye • parten a-twynne, 
And ye wil doon after me • whil eny sope is 

thrynne ; 
And if my brother grucche * or make foul cheere, 
Other for spense of mete or drynk * that we spenden 

heere^ 
I am cure catour • and bere oure aller purs, 
He schal haue for his grucchyng • »eint Maries 

curs. 
My brother is a nyggoun • I swer by Cristes ore, 
And we wil spende largely • that he hath spared 

yore ; 
And who that niaketh grucchyng • that we here 

dwelle, 
He schal to the porter • into the draw-welle.' 
Seuen dayes and seuen nyght * Gamelyn held his 

feste, 
With moche myrth and solas * was ther, and no 

cheste ; 
In a libel toret * his brother lay i-steke, 
And sey hem wasten his. good • but durste he not 

speke. 
Erly on a mornyng • on the eighte day, 



166 THE TALE OF GAMELTN. 

The gestes come to Gamelyn • and wolde gon here 

way. 
* Lordes,' seyde Gamelyn • * wil ye so hye 1 
Al the wyn is not yet dronke • so brouke I myii 

ye-' 

Gamelyn in his herte * was he £ul wo, 

Whan his gestes took her leue • from him for to 

go; 

He wold they had lenger abide • and they seyde 

nay, 
But bitaughte Gamelyn * god, and good day. 
Thus made Gamelyn his feste * and brought it wel 

to ende. 
And after his gestes • toke leue to wende. 

Litheth, and lesteneth • and holdeth youre 

tonge. 
And ye schul heere gamen • of Gamelyn the 

yonge ; 
Herkeneth, lordynges • and lesteneth aright. 
Whan aJle the gestes were goon • how Gamely a 

was dight. 
Al the whil that Gamelyn • heeld his mangerye, 
His brother thoughte on him be wreke • with his 

treccherie. 
Tho Gamelyns gestes * were riden and i-goon, 
Gamelyn stood allone • frendes had he noon ; 
Tho after ful soone ' withinne a litel stoimde, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. lt)7 

Gamelyn was i-taken • and ful harde i-bounde. 
Forth com the false knight • out of the selleer, 
To Gamelyn his brother • he gede ful neer, 
And sayde to Gamelyn • ' who made the so bold 
For to stroye my stoor • of myn houshold ? 
' Brother,' seyde Gamelyn • ' wraththe the right 

nought, 
For it is many day i-gon * siththen it was bought ; 
For, brother, thou hast i-had • by seynt Richer, 
Of fiftene plowes of lond • this sixtene yer, 
And of alle the beestes • thou hast forth-bred, 
That my fader me biquath * on his dethes bed ; 
Of al this sixtene yeer • I geue the the prow, 
For the mete and the drynk • that we have spended 

now.' 
Thanne seyde the false knyght * (euel mot he the !) 
'Herkne, brother Gamelyn * what I wol geue 

the; 
For of my body, brother • heir geten have I noon, 
I wil make the myn heir • I swere by seint lohan.' 
' Par ffiafoy /' sayde Gamelyn * *and if it so be. 
And thou thenke as thou seyst • god yelde it the ! ' 
Nothing wiste Gamelyn • of his brotheres gyle ; 
Therfore he him bigyled * in a litel while. 
' Gamelyn,' seyde he * * o thing I the telle ; 
Tho thou threwe my porter • in the draw-welle, 
I swor in that wraththe • and in that grete moot, 



168 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

That thou schuldest be bounde * bothe hand and 

foot ; 
Therfore I the biseche • brother Gamelyn, 
Lat me nought be forsworen * brother art thou 

myn; 
Lat me bynde the now • bothe hand and feet, 
For to holde myn auow • as I the biheet.' 
^ Brother,' sayde Gamelyn ' al-so mot I the ! 
Thou schalt not be forsworen • for the loue of me.' 
Tho made they Gamelyn to sitte ■ mighte he nat 

stonde, 
Tyl they hadde him bounde • bothe foot and honde, 
The false knight his brother • of Gamelyn was 

agast, 
And sente aftir feteres • to feteren him fast. 
His brother made lesynges * on him ther he stood, 
And tolde hem that comen in • that Gamelyn was 

wood. 
Gamelyn stood to a post • bounded in the halle, 
Tho that comen in ther * lokede on him alle. 
Euer buOod Gamelyn * euen vpright ; 
But mete ne drynk had he non • neither day ne 

night. 
Than seyde Gamelyn • ' brother, by myn hals, 
Now I haue aspied • thou art a party fals ; 
Had I wist that tresoun • that thou haddest 

y-founde, 



THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 169 

I wolde haue geue the strokes • or I had be 

hounde ! ' 
Gamelyn stood bounden • stille as eny stoon ; 
Two dayes and two nightes * mete had he noon. 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • that stood y-bounde 

stronge, 
' Adam spenser • me thinkth I faste to longe ; 
Adam spenser • now I byseche the, 
For the mochel loue • my fader loued the, 
Yf thou may come to the keyes • lese me out of 

bond, 
And I wil parte with the • of my free lond.' 
Thanne seyde Adam • that was the spencer, 
* I haue serued thy brother • this sixtene yeer, 
If I leete the. goon • out of his hour, 
He wolde say afterward • I were a tray tour.' 
' Adam,' sayde Gamelyn • ' so brouke I myn hals ! 
Thou schalt fynde my brother • atte laste fals ; 
Therfor, brother Adam • louse me out of bond, 
And I wil parte with the • of my free lond.' 
' Vp swich a forward ' • seyde Adam, ' i-wys, 
I wil do therto • al that in me is.' 
' Adam,' seyde Gamelyn • ' al-so mot I the, 
I wol holde the couenant • and thou wil loose me.' 
Anon as Adames lord • to bedde was i-goon, 
Adam took the keyes, and leet • Gamelyn out 
anoon ; 



170 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

He vnlokked Gamelyn • botlie handes and feet, 

In hope of aiiauncement • that ha him byheet. 

Than sejde Gamelyn • ' thanked be goddes sonde ! 

Now I am loosed • bothe foot and honde : 

Had I now eten • and dronken aright, 

Ther is noon in this hous * schuld bynde me this 

night.' 
Adam took Gamelyn • as stille as ony stoon, 
And ladde him in-to spence * rapely anon, 
And sette him to soper • right in a priue stede. 
He bad him do gladly • and Gamelyn so dede. 
Anon as Gamelyn hadde • eten wel and fyn, 
And therto y-dronke wel * of the rede wyn, 
^ Adam,' seyde Gamelyn • ' what is now thy reed ? 
Wher I go to my brother • and girde of his heed ? ' 
* Gamelyn,' seyde Adam • ' it schal not be so. 
I can teche the a reed • that is worth the two. 
I wot wel for sothe • that this is no nay, 
We schul haue a mangery • right on Soneday ; 
Abbotes and priours • many heer schal be, 
And other men of holy chirche • as I telle the ; 
Thow schalt stonde vp by the post • as thou were 

hond-fast, 
And I schal leue hem vnloke * awey thou may hem 

cast. 
Whan that they have eten * and wasschen here 

hondes. 



THE TALE OF QAMELTN. 171 

Thou schalt biseke hem alle * to bryng the out of 

bondes ; 
And if they wille borwe the • that were good 

game, 
Then were thou out of prisoun • and I out of 

blame ; 
And if euerich of hem • say vnto vs nay, 
I schal do an other • I swere by this day ! 
Thou schalt haue a good staf • and X wil haue 

another, 
And Cristes curs haue that oon • that faileth that 

other ! ' 
*Ye, for gode!' sayde Gamelyn • *I say it for 

me. 
If I fayle on my syde • yuel mot I the ! 
If we schul algate * assoile hem of here synne, 
Wame me, brother Adam • whan I schal by- 

gynne.' 
^ Gamelyn,' seyde Adam ■ * by seynte Charite, 
I wil warne the byforn • whan that it schal be ; 
Whan I twynke on the • loke for to goon, 
And cast awey the feteres • and com to me anoon.' 
* Adam,' seide Gamelyn • ' blessed be thy bones ! 
That is a good counseil • geuen for the nones ; 
If they werne me thanne * to brynge me out of 

bendes, 
I ■wol sette goode strokes • right on here lendes.* 



172 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

Tho the Sonday was i-come • and folk to the f este, 
Faire they were welcomed • bothe leste and meste ; 
And euer as they atte halle * dore comen in, 
They caste their eye * on yonge G-amelyn. 
The false knight his brother • ful of trechery, 
Alle the gestes that ther were • atte mangery, 
Of Gamelyn his brother * he tolde hem with 

mouthe . • 

Al the harm and the schame • that he telle couthe. 
Tho they were serued • of messes tuo or thre, 
Than seyde Gamelyn * ' how serue ye me ? 
It is nought wel serued • by god that al made ! 
That I sytte fastyng • and other men make glade.* 
The false knight his brother * ther that he stood, 
Tolde alle his gestes • that Gamelyn was wood ; 
And Gamelyn stood stille • and answerde nought. 
But Adames wordes • he held in his thought. 
Tho Gamelyn gan speke • dolfully with-alle 
To the grete lordes * that sat en in the halle : 
' Lordes,' he seyde • ' for Cristes passioun, 
Helpeth brynge Gamelyn * out of prisoun.* 
Than seyde an abbot • sorwe on his cheeke ! 
' He schal haue Cristes curs • and seynte Maries 

eeke, 
That the out of prisoun • beggeth other borwe, 
But euer worthe hem wel • that doth the moche 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 173 

After that abbot • than spak another, 

* I wold thin heed were of • though thou were my 

brother ! 
Alle that the borwe • foule mot hem falle ! * 
Thus they seyden alle * that weren in the halle. 
Than seyde a priour • yuel mot he thryue ! 
' It is moche skathe, boy • that thou art on lyve.' 
' Ow ! ' seyde Gamely n • ' so brouke I my bon ! 
Now I have aspyed • that freendes have I non. 
Cursed mot he worthe • bothe fleisch and blood, 
That euer do priour • or abbot ony good ! ' 
Adam the spencer • took vp the cloth, 
And loked on Gamelyn * and say that he was 

wroth ; 
Adam on the pantrye * litel he thoughte. 
But tuo goode staues • to halle-dore he broughte, 
Adam loked on Gamelyn • and he was war anoon, 
And caste awey the feteres • and he bigan to goon : 
Tho he com to Adam • he took that oo staf, 
And bygan to worche • and goode strokes gaf. 
Gamelyn cam in-to the halle * and the spencer 

bothe. 
And loked hem aboute • as they had be wrothe ; 
Gamelyn sprengeth holy-water • with an oken 

spire, 
That some that stoode vpright • fellen in the fire. 
There was no lewed man * that in the halle stood, 



174 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

That wolde do Gamelyn * eny thing but good^ 
But stoode besyden • and leet hem bothe werche, 
For they hadde no rewthe • of men of holy 

cherche ; 
Abbot or prioiir • monk or chanoun, 
That Gamelyn ouertok • anon they geeden doun. 
Ther was non of hem alle • that with his staf 

mette, 
That he ne made him overthrowe • and quitte hem 

his dette. 

* Gamelyn/ seyde Adam • * for seynte Charite, 
Pay large lyuerey • for the loue of me, 

And I wil kepe the dore * so euer here I masse ! 
Er they ben assoyled * there shal noon passe.' 

* Dowt the nought,' seyde Gamelyn • ' whil we ben 

in-feere, 
Kep thou wel the dore * and I wol werche heere ; 
Stere the, good Adam • and lat ther noon flee, 
And we schul telle largely • how many ther be.' 

* Gamelyn,' seyde Adam • ' do hem but good ; 
They ben men of holy chirche • draw of hem no 

blood, 
Saue wel the croune • and do hem non harmes. 
But brek bothe her legges • and siththen here armes. 
Thus Gamelyn and Adam • wroughte right fast, 
And pleyden with the monkes • and made hem 

agast. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 175 

Thider they come rydyng • iolily with swaynes, 
And horn agen they were i-lad • in cartes and in 

Waynes. 
Tho they had den al y-don • than seyde a gray 

frere, 
' Alias ! sire abbot • what dide we now heere 1 
Tho that comen hider • it was a cold reed, 
Vs hadde ben better at home • with water and 

with breede,' 
Whil Gamelyn made ordres ' of monkes and 

frere, 
Euer stood his brother • and made foul chere ; 
Gamelyn vp with his staf • that he wel knew, 
And gerte him in the nekke • that he ouerthrew ; 
A litel aboue the girdel • the rigge-bon to-barst ; 
And sette him in the f eteres • ther he sat arst. 
' Sitte ther, brother ' • sayde Gamelyn, 
' For to colon thy blood • as I dide myn.' 
As swithe as they hadde • i-wroken hem on here 

foon. 
They askeden watir • and wisschen anoon, 
What some for here loue • and some for here awe, 
Alle the seruantz serued hem * of the beste lawe. 
The scherreue was thennes * but a fyue myle, 
And al was y-told him • in a litel while, 
How Gamelyn and Adam • had doon a sory 

rees, 



176 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

Bounden and i-wounded men • agein the kinges 

pees ; 
Tlio bigan sone • strif for to wake, 
And tlie scherref com aboute * Gameljn for to 

take. 
Now lytiieth and lesteneth * so god gif you good 

fyn! 
And ye schul lieere good game • of yonge Gamelyn. 
Four and twenty yonge men • that heelden hem ful 

bolde, 
Come to the schirref • and seyde that they wolde 
Gamelyn and Adam • fetten, by here fay ; 
The scherref gaf hem leue * soth as I you say ; 
They hyeden faste * wold they nought blynne, 
Til they come to the gate • ther Gamelyn -was 

inne. 
They knokked on the gate * the porter was ny, 
And loked out at an hoi • as man that was sly. 
The porter hadde byholde • hem a litel while, 
He loued wel Gamelyn • and was adrad of gyle, 
And leet the wicket stonden • y-steke ful stille. 
And asked hem withoute • what was here wille. 
For al the grete company • thanne spak but oon, 
' Yndo the gate, porter • and let vs in goon.' 
Then seyde the porter • ' so brouke I my chyn, 
Ye schul sey your erand • er ye comen in.' 
* Sey to Gamelyn and Adam • if here wille be, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 177 

We wil speke with hem • wordes two or thre/ 
' Felaw/ seyde the porter • ' stond there stille, 
And I wil wende to Gamelyn • to witen his wille.' 
In wente the porter • to Gamelyn anoon, 
And seyde, * Sir, I warne you • her ben come your 

foon ; 
The scherreues meyne • ben atte gate, 
For to take you bothe • schulle ye nat skape.' 
^ Porter,' seyde Gamelyn • ' so moot I wel the ! 
I wil allowe the thy wordes • whan I my tyme se ; 
Go agayn to the gate • and dwel with hem a while, 
And thou schalt se right sone ' porter, a gyle. 
Adam,' sayde Gamelyn • ' looke the to goon ; 
We have foomen atte gate • and frendes neuer oon; 
It ben the schirrefes men • that hider ben i-come, 
They ben swore to-gidere • that we schul be nome.' 
' Gamelyn,' seyde Adam • * hye the right blyue, 
And if I faile the this day • euel mot I thryue ! 
And we schul so welcome • the scherreues men, 
That some of hem schul make * here beddes in the 

fen.' 
Atte posterne-gate • Gamelyn out- wente. 
And a good cart-staf • in his hand he hente ; 
Adam hente sone • another gret staf 
For to helps Gamelyn • and goode strokes gaf. 
Adam felde tweyne * and Gamelyn felde thre. 
The other setten feet on erthe • and bygonne fle. 



178 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

* What 1 ' seyde Adam • ' so euer here I masse ! 

I haue a draught of good wyn! • drynk er ye passe!" 
' Nay, by god ! ' sayde thay • ' thy drynk is not 

good, 
It wolde make a mannes brayn • to lien in his 

hood.' 
Gamelyn stood stille • and loked him aboute, 
And seih the scherreue come • with a gret route. 

* Adam,' seyde Gamelyn • 'what be now thy reedesi 
Here cometh the scherreue • and wil haue cure 

heedes.' 
Adam sayde to Gamelyn * ' my reed is now this, 
Abide we no lenger • lest we fare amys : 
I rede that we to wode goon • ar that we be founde, 
Better is vs ther loos • than in town y-bounde.' 
Adam took by the bond • yonge Gamelyn ; 
And euerich of hem tuo • drank a draught of wyn, 
And after took her coursers • and wenten her way; 
Tho fond the scherreue • nest, but non ay. 
The scherreue lighte adoun • and went in-to the 

halle, 
And fond the lord y-fetered * fast with-alle. 
The scherreue vnfetered him • sone, and that 

anoon. 
And sente after a leche • to hele his rigge-boon. 

Lete we now this false knight • lyen in his care, 
And talke we of Gamelyn • and loke bow he fare. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 178> 

Gamelyn in-to the woode * stalkede stille, 

And Adam the spenser • likede ful ylle ; 

Adam swor to Gamelyn • by seynt Richer, 

' Now I see it is mery • to be a spencer, 

That leiier me were • keyes for to bere, 

Than walken in this wilde woode * my clothes to 

tere.' 
' Adam,' seyde Gamelyn • ' dismaye the right 

nought ; 
Many good mannes child • in care is i-brought.' 
And as they stoode talkyng - bothen in-feere, 
Adam herd talkyng of men • and neyh him thought 

thei were. 
The Gamelyn vnder the woode • lokede aright, 
Seuene score of yonge men • he saugh wel a-dight ; 
Alle satte atte mete • compas aboute. 
' Adam,' seyde Gamel3m • ' now haue we no doute. 
After bale cometh boote • thurgh grace of god 

almight ; 
Me thynketh of mete and drynk • that I haue a 

sight.' 
Adam lokede tho • vnder woode-bough, 
And whan he seyh mete • he was glad ynough ; 
For he hopede to god • for to haue his deel, 
And he was sore alonged • after a good meel. 
As he seyde that word • the mayster outlawe 
Saugh Gamelyn and Adam * vnder woode-schawe. 



180 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

* Yonge men,' seyde the maister • by the goods 

roode, 
I am war of gestes • god sende vs iion but goode ; 
Yonder ben tuo yonge men • wonder wel adight, 
And parauenture ther ben mo • who lokede aright. 
Ariseth vp, ye yonge men • and f etteth hem to me ; 
It is good that we witen • what men they bee.' 
Yp ther sterten seuene • fro the dyner, 
And metten with Gamelyn • and Adam spenser. 
Whan they were neyh hem • than seyde that oon, 

* Yeldeth vp, yonge men • your bowes and your 

floon.' 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • that yong was of elde, 
*Moche sorwe mot he haue • that to you hem 

yelde ! 
I curse non other • but right my-selu^ ; 
They ye fette to yow fyue • thanne ye be twelue ! ' 
Tho they herde by his word • that might was in his 

arm, 
Ther was non of hem alls * that wolde do him harm, 
But sayde vnto Gamelyn * myldely and stille, 

* Com afore our maister • and sey to him thy wille.' 

* Yonge men,' sayde Gamelyn • 'by your lew fee, 
What man is your maister • that ye with be ? ' 
Alle they answerde • withoute lesyng, 

* Oure maister is i-crouned • of outlawes kyng.' 

* Adam,' seyde Gamelyn * 'gowe in Cristes name; 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 181 

He may neyther mete nor drynk • werne vs, for 

schame. 
If that he be hende • and come of gentil blood, 
He wol geue vs mete and drynk • and doon vs som 

good.' 
' By seynt lame ! ' seyde Adam * ' Avhat harm that I 

gete, 
I wil aiintre to the dore • that I hadde mete.' 
Gamelyn and Adam • wente forth in-feere, 
And they grette the maister • that they founds 

there. 
Than seide the maister • kyng of outlawes, 
' What seeke ye, yonge men • vnder woode-schawes?' 
Gamelyn answerde * the kyng with his croune, 
' He moste needes walke in woode • that may not 

walke in towne. 
Sire, we walke not heer • noon harm for to do, 
But if we meete with a deer • to scheete therto. 
As men that ben hungry • and mow no mete 

fynde, 
And ben harde bystad * vnder wood-lynde.' 
Of Gamelynes wordes * the maister hadde routhe, 
And seyde, ' ye schal haue ynough • haue god my 

trouthe ! ' 
He bad hem sitte ther adoun • for to take reste ; 
And bad hem ete and drynke • and that of the beste. 
As they sete and eeten • and dronke wel and fyn, 



182 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

Than seyde that oon to that other • ' this is Game- 

lyn.' 
Tho was the maister oiitlawe * in-to counseil nome, 
And told how it was Gamelyn • that thider was 

i-come. 
Anon as he herde * how it was bifalle, 
He made him maister vnder him • ouer hem alle. 
Within the thridde wyke * him com tydyng, 
To the maister outlawe • that tho was her kyng, 
That he schulde come horn * his pees was i-mad ; 
And of that goode tydyng • he was tho ful glad. 
Tho seyde he to his yonge men • soth for to telle, 
^ Me ben comen tydynges • I may no lenger d welle. ' 
Tho was Gamelyn anon ' withoute taryyng, 
Maad maister outlawe • and crouned here kyng. 
Tho was Gamelyn crouned • kyng of outlawes, 
And walked a while • vnder woode-schawes. 
The false knight his brother • was scherreue and 

sire^ i .1- \ 

And leet his brother endite * for hate and for ire. 
Tho were his bonde-men • sory and nothing glad, 
When Gamelyn her lord • wolues-heed was cryed 

and maad ; 
And sente out of his men • wher they might him 

fynde, 
For to soke Gamelyn • vnder woode-lynde, 
To telle him tjdynges * how the wynd was went, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 183 

And al his good reued • and alle his men schent. 
Whan they had him founde • on knees they hem 

sette, 
And a-doun with here hood • and here lord grette ; 
"^ Sire, wraththe you nought • for the goode roode, 
For we haue brought you tydynges • but they be 

nat goode. 
Now is thy brother scherreue * and hath the baillye, 
And he hath endited the • and wolues-heed doth 

the crie.' 
'Alias !' seyde Gamelyn • 'that euer I was so 

slak 
That I ne hadde broke his nekke ' tho I his rigge 

brak ! 
Goth, greteth hem wel • myn housbondes and wyf, 
I wol ben atte nexte schire • haue god my lyf ! ' 
Gamelyn came wel redy • to the nexte schire, 
And ther was his brother * bothe lord and sire. 
Gamelyn com boldelych • in-to the moot-halle, 
And put a-doun his hood • among the lordes alle ; 
' God saue you all, lordynges • that now here be ! 
But broke-bak scherreue • euel mot thou the ! 
Why hast thou do me • that schame and vilonye, 
For to late endite me • and wolues-heed me 

crye ? ' 
Tho thoughte the false knight • for to ben awreke. 
And leet take Gamelyn • moste he no more speke ; 



184 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

Might ther be no more grace * but Gamelyn atte 

laste 
"Was cast in-to prisonn * and fetered ful faste. 

Gamelyn hath a brother ' that higbte sir Ote, 
As good a knight and bende • as mighte gon on 

foote. 
Anon ther gede a messager • to that goode knight, 
And told him altogidere * how Gamelyn m as dight. 
Anon as sire Ote herde • how Gamelyn was a-dight, 
He was wonder sory • was he no- thing light, 
And leet sadle a steede • and the way he nam, 
And to his tweyne bretheren • anon-right he cam, 
' Sire/ seyde sire Ote • to the scherreue tho, 
' We ben but thre bretheren • schul we neuer be* 

mo; 
And thou hast y-prisoned • the beste of us alle ; 
Swich another brother * yuel mot him bifalle ! ' 
' Sire Ote,' seide the false knight • ' lat be thi curs ; 
By god, for thy wordes • he schal fare the wurs ; 
To the kynges prisoun • anon he is y-nome, 
And ther he schal abyde • til the Justice come.' 
' Parde ! * seyde sir Ote • ' better it schal be ; 
I bidde him to maynpris * that thow graunte him 

me 
Til the nexte sittyng • of delyueraunce. 
And thanne lat Gamelyn; • stande to his chaunce.' 
' Brother, in swich a ItoJ-warcT* i take him to the ; 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 185 

And by thi fader soiile * that the bygat and me, 

But if he be redy * when the Justice sitte, 

Thou schalt bere the luggement • for al thi grete 

witte.' 
' I graunte wel,' seide sir Ote • ' that it so be. 
Let deiyuer him anon • and tak him to me/ 
Tho was Gamely n delyuered • to sire Ote his bro- 
ther ; 
And that night dwellede • that on with that 

other. 
On the morn seyde Gamelyn • to sire Ote the 

hende, 
' Brother,' he seide, * I moot • for so the from the 

wende, 
To loke how my yonge men • leden here lyf, 
Whether they lyuen in ioie * or elles in stryf.' 
' Be god ! ' seyde sire Ote * ' that is a cold reed, 
Now I see that al the cark * schal fallen on myn 

heed ; 
For when the lustice sit * and thou be nought y- 

founde. 
I schal anon be take * and in thy stede i-bounde.' 
' Brother,' sayde Gamelyn • * dismaye the nought, 
For by seint lame in Gales • that many man hath 

sought, 
If that god almighty * holde my lyf and wit, 
I wil be ther redy • whan the lustice sit.' 



186 THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 

Than seide sir Ote to Gamelyn • ' god schilde the 

fro schame ; 
Com whan thou seest tyme • and bring vs out of 

blame.' 
Litheth, and lesteneth • and holdeth you stille, 
And ye schul here how Gamelyn • hadde al his 

wille. / . 

Gamelyn wente agein • vnder woodd-rys, 
And fond there ploying • yonge men of prys. 
Tho was yo/ig Gamelyn • glad and blithe ynough, 
Whan he fond his mery men * vnder woode-bough. 
Gamelyn and his men • talkeden in-feere, 
And they hadde good game • here maister to heere ; 
They tolden him of auentures • that they hadde 

founde, 
And Gamelyn hem tolde agein * how he was fast i- 

bounde. 
Whil Gamelyn was outlawed • hadde he no cors ; 
There was no man that for him • ferde the wors, 
But abbotes and priours • monk and chanoun ; 
On hem left he no-thing • whan he mighte hem nom. 
Whil Gamelyn and his men • made merthes ryue, 
The false knight his brother • yuel mot he thryue ! 
For he was fast aboute • bothe day and other, 
For to hyre the quest • to hangen his brother. 
Gamelyn stood on^ day • and, as he biheeld 
The woodes and the schawes * in the wilde feeld. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 187 

He though te on his brother • how he him beheet 

That he wolde be redy • whan the Justice seet ; 

He thoughte wel that he wolde • withoute delay, 

Come afore the Justice * to kepen his day, 

And seide to his yonge men • ' dighteth you yare, 

For whan the Justice sit * we moote be thare, 

For I am vnder borwe * til that I come, 

And my brother for me • to prisoun schal be 

nome.' 
' By seint lame ! ' seyde his yonge men • ' and thou 

rede therto, 
Ordeyne how it schal be • and it shall be do/ 
Whil Gamelyn was comyng • ther the Justice sat. 
The false knight his brother * forgat he nat that, 
To huyre the men on his quest • to hangen his 

brother ; 
Though he hadde nought that oon • he wolde haue 

that other. 
Tho cam Gamelyn • fro vnder woode-rys, 
And broughte with him • his yonge men of prys. 

' J se wel,' seyde Gamelyn • ' the Justice is set ; 
Go afom, Adam • and loke how it spet.' 
Adam wente into the halle • and loked al aboute, 
He seyh there stonde lordes • bothe grete and stoute^ 
And sir Ote his brother • fetered wel fast ; 
Tho went Adam out of halle • as he were agast. 
Adam said to Gamelyn • and to his felawes alle, 



188 THE TALE OF GAMELTN. 

* Sir Ote stant i-fetered • in the moot-halle.' 

' Yonge men,' seide Gamelyn • ' this ye heeren alle, 

Sire Ote stant i-fetered • in the moot-halle.' 

If god yif vs grace • wel for to doo, 

He schal it abegge • that broughte it thertoo.' 

Thanne sayde Adam • that lokkes hadde hore, 

* Cristes curs mote he haue • that him bond so sore ! 
And thou wilt, Gamelyn • do after my reed, 
Ther is noon in the halle * schal here awey his heed.' 
' Adam, ' seyde Gamelyn • ' we wiln nought don so, 
We wil slee the giltyf • and lat the other go. 

I wil into the halle • and with the lustice speke ; 
On hem that ben gultyf • I wil ben awreke. 
Lat non skape at the dore • take, yonge men, yeme ; 
For I wil be lustice this day • domes for to deme. 
God spede me this day * at my newe werk ! 
Adam, com on with me • for thou schalt be my 

clerk. ' 
His men answereden him • and bade him doon his 

best, 

* And if thou to vs haue neede • thou schalt fynde 

vs prest ; 
"We wiln stande with the ' whil that we may dure, 
And but we werke manly * pay vs non hure. ' 

* Yonge men,' seyde Gamelyn ' ' so mot I wel the ! 
As trusty a maister ■ ye schal fynde of me.' 
Right there as the lustice • sat in the halle, 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN. 189 

In wente Gamelyn * amonges hem alle. 

Gamelyn leet vnfetere • his brother out of bende. 
Thanne seyde sire Ota • his brother that was hende, 
' Thou haddest ahiiost, Gamelyn • dwelled to longe, 
For the quest is oute on me * that I schulde honge.' 
' Brother/ seyde Gamelyn • ' so god gif me good 

rest ! 
This day they schuln ben hanged • that ben on thy 

quest ; 
And the Justice bothe • that is the lugge-man, 
And the scherreue bothe • thurgh him it bigan.' 
Thanne seyde Gamelyn • to the lustise, 
' Now is thy power y-don • thou most nedes arise ; 
Thow hast yeuen domes • that ben yuel dight, 
I wil sitten in thy sete • and dressen hem aright.' 
The Justice sat stille • and roos nought anoon ; 
And Gamelyn in haste • cleuede his cheeke-boon ; 
Gamelyn took him in his arm • and no more spak, 
But threw him ouer the barre • and his arm to-brak. 
Durste non to Gamelyn • seye but good, 
For ferd of the company * that withoute stood. 
Gamelyn sette him doun • in the Justices seet, 
And sire Ote his brother by him • and Adam at 

his feet. 
Whan Gamelyn was i-set • in the lustices stede, 
Herkneth of a bourde * that Gamelyn dede. 
He leet fetre the Justice • and his false brother. 



190 THE TALE OF GAMELYK. 

And dede hem come to the barre • that con with 

that other. 
The Gamelyn hadde thus y-doon • hadde he no rest, 
Til he had enquered * who was on the quest 
For to deme his brother • sir Ote, for to honge ; 
Er he wiste which they were • him thoughte ful 

longe. 
But as sone as Gamelyn • wiste wher they were, 
He dede hem euerichone * feterin in-feere, 
And bringen hem to the barre * and sette hem in 

rewe ; 

* By my faith ! ' seyde the lustice • ' the scherreue 

is a schrewe ! ' 
Than seyde Gamelyn • to the lustise, 

* Thou hast y-geue domes • of the wors assise ; 
And the twelve sisours • that weren of the quest, 
They schul ben hanged this day • so haue I good 

rest ! ' 
Thanne seide the scherreue * to yonge Gamelyn, 
' Lord, I crie the mercy * brother art thou myn.* 

* Therfore, ' seyde Gamelyn * ' haue thou Cristes 

curs, 
For and thou were maister • yit I schulde haue 

wors.' 
For to make short tale • and nought to tarie longe, 
He ordeyned him a quest * of his men so stronge; 
The lustice and the scherreue • bothe honged hye. 



THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 191 

To weyuen with the ropes • and with the wynde 

diye ; 
And the twelue sisours • (sorwe haue that rekke !) 
Alle they were hanged • faste by the nekke. 
Thus ended the false knight * with his treccherie, 
That euer had i-lad his lyf * in falsnes and folye. 
He was hanged by the nekke * and nought by the 

purs, 
That was the meede that he hadde * for his fadres 

curs. 
Sire Ote was eldest • and Gamelyn was ying, 
They wenten with here frendes • euen to the kyng ; 
They made pees with the kyng * of the best assise. 
The kyng loued well sir Ote • and made him lustise. 
And after, the kyng made Gamelyn • bothe in est 

and west, 
Chef Justice • of al his fre forest ; 
Alle his wighte yonge men • the kyng forgaf here 

gilt, 
And sitthen in good ofl&ce • the kyng hem haih i- 

pilt, 
Thus wan Gamelyn • his lond and his leede, 
And wrak him of his enemys • and quitte hem here 

meede ; 
An d sire Ote his brother • made him his heir, 
And siththen wedded Gamelyn • a wyf bothe good 

and f eyr ; 



192 THE TALE OP GAMELYN. 

They lyueden to-gidere • whil that Crist wolde, 
And sithen was Gamelyn • grauen vnder molde. 
And so schal we alle * may ther no man fle : 
God bringe vs to the loye * that euer schal be ! 



CASSELL'S NATIOHAL IIBRAIIV, 

Edited by Prof. Henry Morley, LL.D. 

A series of weekly volumes, each containing about 200 pages, clear, 
readable print, on good paper, at the low price of 

TEN CENTS PER VOLUME, 
Or iu Cloth Extra, 25 Cents per Vol. 



1— My Ten Years' Imprisonment. Silvio Pellico. 

2— Cnilde Harold's Pilgrimage. Lord Byron. 

3— Autobiograpliy of Benjamin Franklin. 

4— The Complete Ang-ler. Isaac Walton. 

5— The Man of Feeling. Henry Mackenzie. 

6— The School for Scandal and The Rivals. R. B. Sheridan. 

7— Sermons on the Card. Other Discourses. Bishop Latimer. 

8— Lives of Alexander and Caesar. Plutarch. 

9— The Castle of Otranto. Horace Walpole. 

10— Voyages and Travels. Sir John Maukdeville. 

11— She Stoops to Conaner, etc. Oliver Goldsmith. 

12— Adventures of Baron Trenck. Vol. I. Thomas Holcroft. 
13— Adventures of Baron Trenck. Vol. II. 

14— The Lady of the Lake. Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 

15— Table-Talk. Martin Luther. 

16— The Wisdom of the Ancients, etc. Francis Bacon. 

17— Francis Bacon. Lord Macaulay. 

18— Lives of Poets, "Waller, Milton, Cowley. Samuel Johnson. 
19— Thoughts on Present Discontents, etc. Edmund Burke. 
20— The Battle of the Books, etc. Dean Swift. 

21— Poems. George Crabbe. 

22— EgyiPt and Scythia. Herodotus. 

23— Hamlet. Wm. Shakespeare. 

24— Voyagers' Tales. Richard Hakluyt. 

25— Nature and Art. Mrs. Inchbald. 

26— Lives of Alcibiades, Coriolanus, etc. Plutarch. 
27— Essays. Abraham Cowley. 

28— Sir R. de Coverley & Spectator's Club. Steele and Addison. 
29— Voyages and Travels. Marco Polo. 

30— The Merchant of Venice. Wm. Shakespeare. 

31— Religio Medici. Sm Thos. Browne, M.D, 

32— Voyages in Search of N. VvT. Passage. Richard Hakluyt. 
33— Diary of Samuel Pepys, 1660—1661. 
34— Earlier Poems. John Milton. 

35— The Sorrows of "Werter. Goethe. 

36— Lives of Poets— Rutter, Denhana, etc. Samuel Johnson. 
37— Nathan the "Wise. Lesslng. 

38— Grace Abounding. John Bunyan. 

39— Macb«th. Wm. Shakespeare. 

40— Earlier Australian Voyages. John Plnkerton. 

41— Poems, 1700-1714. Alexander Pope. 

42— Diary of Samuel Pepys. 1662-1663. 
43— Bravo of Venice. M. G. Lewis. 

44— Lives of Demetrius, Mark Antony, etc. Plutarch. 
45— Peter Plymley's Letters, etc. Sydney SmTH. 

46— Travels m England. Moritz. 

47— Undine and the Tv/6 Captains. Fouque. 

48— Confessions of an Inquiring Spirit, etc. Coleridge. 
49--As "you Like It. Wm. Shakespeare. 

50— Johnson's Hebrides. 
51— Carol and Chimes. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 

739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 




« nm Tinm » 





OP ENTERTAINING FICTION. 
A COLLECTION OF SHORT COMPLETE STORIES 

BY LEADING AUTHORS. 



PRICE IS CENTS EACH. 



NOW READY. 
A RACE FOR LIFE, ETC. 

MY NIGHT ADVENTURE; ETC. 

THE GREAT GOLD SECRET, ETC. 
WHO TOOK IT? ETC. 

A WIFE'S CONFESSION, ETC. 
SNOWED UP, ETC. 

CHECKMATED, ETC. 



OTHER VOLUMES TO FOLLOW. 



" There is something very tasty and rich in the appearance of these 
two unambitious little books. They look like a real rich find for the 
story reader, and a taste of them does not belie their appearance- 
There are numbers of elegant little stories between the covers ; tasty, 
correct in thought and action, and whipped into froth (some of them) 
light enough for the most sultry summer day. After all fiction that 
is art for art's sake is the thing for the weary or listless brain, and in 
these volumes one will find it. We look for further numbers with 
ardent \ongmgy— Hartford Evening Post: 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 

739 and 741 Broadway, N. Y. 



THE NEW AMERICAN NOVEL, 

TRAJAN. 

The History of a Sentimental Young Man, with 
some Episodes In the Comedy of Many 
Lfves' Errors. 



BY HENRY F. KEENAN, 



T VOL., i2mo., 650 PAGES. PRICE . - . - $1.50. 



The story is of international interest. The scene is laid 
:n Paris during the exciting days that ushered in the Com- 
mune, and while many real persons figure among the 
characters, the plot hovers round a group of Americans, 
thrown together by the vicissitudes of the hour. 



Among the new novels of the season, Mr. Henry F. Keenan's 
■Trajan" must be promptly accorded the first place. — New York 
Herald. 

It is much the best novel that has appeared for years in the En- 
rrJish or any other language. —P/^ //a. Evening Bulletin. 

" Trajan " is a classic, a real gem plucked from the mass of rubbish 
with which the bookstores ar^. crowded. — Boston Times. 

Every careful bibliographei of the 20th century ought to mention 
*■ Trajan " as a novel to be read for scenes of the 19th century in Paris 
and New York. — Hart/or:' Post. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 74 T Broadway, New York. 



At LOVE'S Extremes. 



BY MAURICE THOMPSON, 

Author of "A Tallahasse Girl," "Songs of Fair 
Weather," etc., etc. 

1 Vol., 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

The scene of the story is laid in the mountains of Ala- 
bama ; it is a thoroughly American tale, as strong as it is 
picturesque. 

The story is a very strong one, with picturesque sketching, effective 
dramatic situations, and most admirable character drawing. — Boston 
Home Journal. 

Crisp and fresh in styJe, and the story is told with animation. — 
Brooklyn Daily Times. 

The attractive setting, the general color, and the excellence of parts 
of the action make the novel a very strong one. — Boston Globe. 

It is bright with descriptions of scenes, and spicy with mountaineer 
dialect. . . . The style is charming, and this new work of fiction 
will be read widely and with pleasure. — St. Louis Globe Defnocrat. 

A delightful story, elegantly designed, and told in the most interest- 
ing manner. — Press, A Ibany. 

The author has blended the beautiful and romantic in graceful 
thought which charms and entertains the reader. — Southern Agrictil" 
turist. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



The " Bar-Sinister should do for Mormonism what " Uncle 
Tom's Cabin " did for Slavery. — Newport News, 



THE BAR-SINISTER 

A Social Study. 



I VOL., izmc, 360 PAGES, EXTRA CLOTH. Price - - $1.25. 



It is not say?ng too much to declare that " The Bar-Sinister " 
deserves a place among the very few good American novels of an 
unusually unproductive season. — Christian Union. 

" The Bar-Sinister " is a novel which will attract more than ordi- 
nary attention. The text is Mormonism, the bar-sinister on the 
escutcheon of this great republic. ^ The characters introduced are 
every-day people. The hero, a New York business man, who goes to 
Salt Lake City with his wife and baby, and who falls a victim to the 
enticements of the "saints." — Christian at Work. 

A well-constructed story, that is developed by a plot to a strong 
finale, in good literary form and with a pleasing literary style, and 
that will be read with the greatest interest and feeling — indeed it has 
the power to inflame public opinion as no other with its purpose has 
ever done. — Boston Globe. ^ 

One of the most powerfully written books of the season. — Lawrence 
A fn eric an. 

It is the best novel of the summer. — Examiner, N. Y. 



CASSELL k COMPANY, Limited. 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



JUST PUBLISHED. 



WITHOUT BLEMISH, 

To-Day's Problem. 
By Mrs. J. H. Walworth, 

Author of " The Bar-Sinister," etc., etc. 



I VOL., i2mo. EXTRA CLOTH. PRICE- -$1.25, 



This fascinating volume, from the pen of the author of 
''The Bar-Sinister," deals with a vital subject, the prob- 
iem of the negro's future. While the book has a moral 
purpose it is not a dry dissertation, but like her story of 
Mormon life, is full of dramatic action and thrilling inci- 
dent. 



CASSELL Sl company, Limited, 

739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



KING SOLOMON'S MINES 

A Thrilling Story Founded on an African Legend, 

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD, 
Author of ''Dawn," "The Witch's Head," etc 



I Volume, i2Mo, Extra Cloth. Price - - $1.50. 



t%?^^^'&RSTl^^l^ to whii the recent discover^ofv«^^^^^^ 
dent and thoroughly executed gold workings m the Transvaal goes 
far to lend a considerable air of truth. 

The book is a most able and successful study of "^tive ,character-- 
W one who possesses a wide personal knowledge of his subject-as dis- 
nfaved hi a series of adventures, marvelous as the most wonder-lovmg 
Sh cou?d desTre The interest never flags from the Pa€« on which 
?he three travelers set forth on their seemingly hopeless quest, to that 
which records the close of their wanderings. 

It may be added, for the satisfaction of t^«J"^/,«'^"if/i;J^j'^^ 
horrors of the " witch-hunt ' are nowise exaggerated but that^ o" 'he 
contrary much of its barbarity is suppressed, some of the a«"^' PJ"^ 
ceediS among people of the Zulu race on such occasions being too 
awful to set forth. 

The work is one which will prove acceptable to oldtr readers at 
v>ell as to the boys for whom it is avowedly written. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York, 



G. MANYILLE FENN'S NOVELS. 



SWEET MACE. 

A Sussex Legend of the Iron Times. By G. MANVILIJ5 
Fenn. I vol., i2mo, cloth, new style. Price $i.oo. 

A thoroughly delicious book . . . the interest in the story is 
unflagging, and is absorbing enough to hold the reader's attention '.. 
the last page. — Boston Courier. 



POVERTY CORNER. 

("A Little World.") By G. Manville Fenn. i vo2,, 
i2mo, cloth, new style. Price $i.oo. 

The characters in this exciting drama are strongly individualized 
and cleverly sustained. — Mail and Express. 

There are touches of description in " Poverty Comer," as well as 
entire characters, which the author of " A Christmas Carol " need not 
have been ashamed to own among his happiest efforts ; while as a story 
the book hardly could have been improved. 



THE PARSON 0' DUMFORD. 

A Story of Lincoln Folk. By G. Manville Fenn. i vol., 
i2mo, cloth. Price $i.oo. 

This delightful story is in the well-known style of this favorite 
author. There is plenty of incident, without any exaggeration oi 
straining after effect ; the language is pure and terse ; the descriptions 
both humorous and pathetic, extremely spontaneous, and the several 
';Jiaracters are well and distinctly drawn. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited 
739 ^-nd 741 Broadwaj, New York. 



JUST PUBLISHED. 



WHO IS GUILTY? 



A NOVEL, 

By Philip Woolf, M. D. i vol., i6mo., cloth. Price $i. 



An interesting tale, with a denoument that will astonish 
the reader. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF AS IT WAS WRITTEN. 

MRS. PEIXADA. 



By Sidney Luska. i vol. i6mo. Price, $i.oa 



"The story begins with the very first page, and th^re 
is no let up till the end is reached. Mr. Luska has the 
happy faculty of holding his readers' attention through 
every page of his books. 

" The author is a wonaerful writer, a born story teller ; 
his stories will not only please the passing moment, but 
last as an illustration of the best in American Literature." 
^^Evening Post, Hartford. 



CASSELL &. COMPANY, Limited, 

729 and 741 Broadwav, New York. 



By Author of " THE BAR-SINISTER." 



Tl HEff MAN AT BOSSMEBE. 

By Mrs. J. H. Walworth, author of " The Bar- 
Sinister," "Without Blemish," "Old 
Fulkerson's Clerk," "Scruples," 
etc., etc. 



1 Vol., 16m.o, extra clotli. Price $1.25. 



The volume is not only highly artistic and interesting, but of 
great value as a picture of life in an out of the way quarter of the 
country. . . It is decidedly one of the good books of the season. 

Boston Herald. 

To say that the story is interesting does not tell all. It is truth- 
fully drawn to real life, and the incidents are vouched for, so that the 
reader who could not make it of value to him as a character-sketch is 
no reader at all. 

Christian Advocate. 

JOHN PARMELEE^S CURSE~ 

By Julian Hawthorne, Author of " Beatrix Randolph," 
"Dust," " Garth," etc., etc. 



1 vol., extra cloth.. Price $1.00. 



The natural, unconstrained tone of the narrative makes it attractive, 
and the incidents are so well devised, cleverly worked out, and de- 
picted as to render the story decidedly absorbing. 

Boston Sunday Times. 

One of the most delightful of the many novels of its brilliant 
author. It is full of incident and dramatic situations, and the story is 
told with a simplicity and beauty, and with touches of pathos, that 
will enchain the reader's attention from the first page to the last. 

Albany Press. 

CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



•"The first English memoir worthy. of the name." 

— London Times. 

Prince Bismarck. 

AN HISTORICAL BIOGRAPHY. 



By CHARLES LOWE, M. A. 



With Introduction by Prof. Munroe Smith, of Columbia 
College, New York. 

In two large Octavo Volumes, over 1,300 pages, with 
Portraits, complete Index and Appendix, giving the com- 
plete text of the Treaty of Vienna (1864), Convention of 
Gastein (1865). Treaty of Prague (1866), Treaty of Frank- 
fort (1871), The Prussian Constitution, The Imperial Con- 
stitution, etc., etc. 



Extra ClotH, Price, per Set, - - $5.00. 



"Mr. Lowe has written an able account of a great career, and )i is 
book is full of information, either personal or political, from the firsi 
page to the last." — London Morning Post. 

" The first complete historical sketch of the great German states- 
man, who will occupy so conspicuous a place in the annals of the 
nineteenth century. ... Of permanent value to the correct and 
intelligent apprehension of the political history of Europe." — Liver' 
pool Mercury. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



VALUABLE BOOKS FOR THE LIBRAE 



DICTIONARY OF ENGILISH LITERATURE. 



Being a comprehensive Guide to English Authors and thei{< 
Works. By W. Davenport Adams. 776 pp., crown 
8vo, cloth, $1.50. 

" We distinctly and emphatically mark it as one of the few boolq 
of reference which are essential to every person who takes any inter* 
est in English literature." — Literary tVorid. 



DICTIONARY OF PHRASE AND FABLE. 



By the Rev. Dr. Brewer. Giving the Derivation, Source, 
or Origin of about 20,000 Common Phrases, Allusions 
and Words that have a Tale to Tell. New and Revised 
Edition. Extra crown 8vo, 1,070 pp., half Morocco, gilt 
top, $2.50. 



DICTIONARY OF MIRACLES. 



Imitative, Realistic and Dogmatic. By Rev. Dr. Brewer. 
Illustrated, extra crown 8vo, over 600 pp. , half morocco, 
gilt top, $2.50. 



THE READER'S HANDBOOK. 

Of Allusions, References, Plots and Stories, with two Ap- 
pendices. By the Rev. E. Cobham Brewer, LL.D., 
Trinity Hall, Cambridge, author of " Dictionary of 
Phrase and Fable," "Dictionary of Miracles," etc 
1 184 pages, 8vo, half morocco, $3.50. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



•One of the most Powerful Novels of the Year." 

—Si. Louis Republican. 



AS IT. WAS WRITTEN 

A Jewish Musician's Story. 

By Sidney Luska. 



I Volume i6Mp. Extra Cloth. Price, - - $i.oo. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

•' ' As it was Written ' is certainly a work of no common sort. 
It IS full of passion and virile struggle, and will make its mark." — 
George Gary Eggleston. 

" Its intensity, picturesqueness and exciting narration are in 
sharp contrast with the works of our analytic novelists." — E. G. Sted- 

MAN. 

" It_ is safe to say that few readers who have perused the first chap- 
ter, will be content to lay the book down without finishing it." — 
Christian Union^ New York. 

" The working out of so strange and abnormal a plot without any 
descent into mere grotesqueness is a triumph of art." — New York 
Tribune. 

" It is vivid without floridness, dreamy without sentiment, exciting 
without being sensational." — The Critic, New York. 

" We can earnestly advise all readers who care for a novel show- 
ing individuahty, power and thought, to read As it was Written."-- 
Brooklyn Union. 

" A capital novel. ... It cannot fail to impress itself as ar 
able and moving dramatic effort." — New York Times. 

" Of all the novels that have come to us this season, As IT wa. 
Written seems the most likely to take a permanent _ place in 
literature. We hope to hear from Sidney Luska again." — Yale 
Courant. 

" We have seen no book of late years to which the term absorbing 
in interest could more appropriately be applied." — Boston Herald. 

" It stands apart from the average novel, soon invites attention and 
then rivets it. . . . Will doubtless be extensively read." — N^ew 
York Telezratti, 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



AS COMMOI MOETALS. 



A Novel. 1 vol., 16 mo., clotli. Price $1.25. 



'* A strong story, the scene of which is laid in the city 

of Brooklyn, and will be read with the greatest 

interest and feeling." 

"Written with great ■^\^&x.''''— Journal of Commerce^ N. Y. 

"A strong' story, the interest of which deepens with every 
chapter. " — Home Journal^ Boston. 

' ' In many respects a remarkable book, in all respects a most 
readable one." — Buffalo Express. 

THE PHANTOM CITY. 

A VOLCANIC ROMANCE. 

By William West all, author of " Red Ryvington," 
" Ralph Norbreck's Trust," etc., etc. 



1 vol., 16 mo., extra clotli. Price $1.50. 



" The plot is well worked out and the interest held to the 
end." — Daily Union. 

' ' A story of wonderful adventure, and certainly of absorbing 
interest." — Daily Courier. 

" The story is one of those ingenious romances which 
enchant a summer afternoon, or render one wholly oblivious of 
a railway journey, and will be prized by all novel readers." — 
Boston Eve. Traveler. 



CASSELL &. COMPANY, Limited, 

739 and 741 Broadway, N. Y. 



TWO CHARMINa NOVELS. 



THE MAGIC OF A VOICE 



By Margaret Russell Macfarlane. i vol., i6mo., 
cloth. Price, $i.oo. 



The scene of this story is laid in Germany, and the 
characters are drawn from life. The author's style is 
simple and direct, and the story has a special interest on 
account of the information it gives in regard to the man- 
ners and customs of a type of German society rarely 
presented to the novel reader. 



RUHAINAH. 



A Story of Afghan Life. By Evan Stanton, i vol. 
l6mo, extra cloth. Price $i.oo. 



"This new romance of Afghan life is by a new 
novelist but an old writer, who has spent several years 
among the people whom he describes in such v^v'id colors." 

" Pretty, bright, and spirited, with a clever mingling of 
war and love, history and fiction, faith and treachery, and 
no analysis." — The Critic. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 
739 and 741 Broadway, New York. 



CASSELL'S "RAINBOW" SERIES 

OF NEW AND ORIGINAL NOYELS. 

By Popular American and Foreign Authors. In Large i2mo. volumes 

of 192 pages each. Elegantly printed on good paper 

and bound in paper cover. 

PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS PER VOLUME. 



N01¥ READY. 

AS IT WAS WRITTEN.-A Jewish Musician's 

Story. 

By Sidney Luska. Author of "Mrs. Peixada," etc. 

WANTED-A SENSATION; A Saratoga Inci- 
dent. 

B}'- Edward S. Van Zile. 

A MORAL SINNER. 

By Myrtilla N. Daly. 

SCRUPLES. 

By Mrs. J. H. Walworth, author of " Bar Sinster," etc. etc. 

MARVELOUS IN OUR EYES. 

By Emma E. Hornibrook. 

WITNESS MY HAND. 

By the author of " Ladj? Gwendolen's Tryst." 

A PRINCE OF DARKNESS. 

By Florence Warden, author of " The House on the Marsh," etc. 

KING SOLOMON'S MINES. 

A Thrilling Story founded on an African Legend. By H. Rider 
Haggard, author of " Dawn," " The Witch's Head," etc. 

NATASQUA. 

By Rebecca Harding Davis, author of " Waiting for the Verdict," 

etc., etc. 

OLD FULKERSON'S CLERK. 

By Mrs. J. H. Walworth, author of " The Bar Sinister," " Without 
Blemish,'' etc. 

OUR SENSATION NOVEL. 

Edited by Justin H. McCarthy, M. P. 

MORGAN'S HORROR. 

A Romance of the " West Countree." 

By George Manville Fenn, author of "Sweet Mace," " Parson o' 
Dumford," " Poverty Corner," etc. 

A CRIMSON STAIN. 

By Annie Bradshaw. 
OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION. 



CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, 

739 & 741 Broadway, New York. 




^VJ VAP£-f, „ 



^mfs^wf!^,ie/i| 



Si^WKMCK 



81 Somerset St. 

Boston^ Mass, 
A. P. W. Paper Co. 

Gentlemen: Your 
"Medicated Toilet 
\ Paper"i8iisefulinthe 
treatment of Anal dis- 
easeSj allaying' the in- 
tense itcning-, is a 
reme^ easily applied, 
and a trial is convinc- 
ing- of its merits. 
F. M. Johnson, M. D. 
July I, 1885. » 



^EIT^ED PAPER, or that coa- 
'm, talning" chemicals incident to 
the ordinaiy process of manufac- 
ture, is a " cause of Hemorrhoids." 
The " STAlSfDAED » Brand is not 
medicated, but is free from delete- 
rious substanceSi 
Two 2,000-Slieet Rolls 

andNICELE FIXTURE delivered 
FKEE anywhere in the United 
States on receipt of 

<^ONE DOLLAR >^ 



^ ^ .^-wltli SiZpress Companies enable ua 

I to deliTer to any.Szpress office in. the IT. S., One Boz. Stand- 
Jord 1,000 Sheet Bolls and Nickel Fixture, or Eierht Stand 
laxd 1,000 Sheet Bolls, Two rolls Medicated and Nickel 
■Fixture on receipt of S3. 00. 



_ Our, specially prepared paper for the use of sufferers from 
Hemorrhoids la heavily charged \vith ointment, and has the 
endorsement of physicians, inlhat th^ " regular application of 
recogrnized remedies" is accomplished through absence of 
the annoyance" attending the use of ointment in the usual 
manner. 

Pocket Packet, lOcts. Ten Packets and Neat Pocket Case, - $1.00 
Price per Roll of 1,000 Sheets securely Avrapped fn Tin Foil. .50 
Two 1,000 Sheet Eolls, and Nickle Fixture, - - - -$1.30 
I>elivered Free, anywhere in the United States, on receipt of 
price. Address. =3;^ 



Alsany Perforated wrapping Paper Cc — ALBANY. N. 



PplglGAGo 



i^- ./Railway- 



The Popular Short Line 



BETWEEN CHICAGO 



MILWAUKEE, DULUTH, OMAHA, 

MADISON, DES MOINES, DENVER, 

S T. PAUL, SIOUX CI TY, SAN FRANCISCO, 

MINNEAPOLIS, COUNCIL BLUFFS, PORTLAND, ORE. 

^T/hrough past Express ^mins^ 

Equipped with all known appliances for the SAFETY, COMFORT 
and LUXURY of its passengers. 

Its Through Trains make close Union Depot connections with trains 
of branch or connecting lines for all points of Interest in 

IlililNOIS. IOWA, ITEBBASKA, WISCONSIN. 

/ MINNESOTA. NOBTHBBN MICHIGAN, 

^ DAKOTA. COIiOBADO. 

WYOMING. MONTANA, IDAHO. UTAH. OREGON. 

WASHINGTON TBRBITOBY, 

CALIFORNIA and BRITISH COIiXTMBIA. 

It is the Tourists' Favorite Route to all points of interest in the 
ENCHANTED SUMMER LAND and HUNTING and FISHING RESORTS 
of the NORTH and NORTHWEST. 

THE ONLY ROUTE TO THE BLAGK HILLS. 

The famous "SHORT LINE LIMITED" — the fast train — elegant 
in all its uppointmentM, runs between Chicago, St. Paul and 
Minneapolis, via 

Tlxe 3^ortli.-"'=;77"esterrL. 

All Agents sell Tickets via this Route. 



New York Office, 409 Broadway, Chicago Office, 82 Clai* Street. 

Boston Office, 5 State Street. Omaha Office, 1411 Famam Stre* 

Minneapolis Office, 13 Nicollet House, St. Paul Office, 159 East Third S'. 
Denver Office, 8 Windsor Hotel Block. Milwaukee Office, 102 Wisconsin is. 
San Francisco Office, 2 New Montgomery Street. 

ICAGO, ILL. 



I 








■^ 















'aV 




'^6" 



A""^ 













^ .^'% 














r^' 




V\ 



^^ 



'"-s^- 



■5^ ^i 






<>, 



.*;q. 



° .^ 













.^ 



<(r' 







